


Let You Down

by Wolfloner



Series: Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces [33]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Peter Parker, Blow Jobs, Borderline Personality Disorder, Crying, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Deepthroating, Dom Wade Wilson, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, First Time Topping, Forced Orgasm, Kink Negotiation, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mentioned Loki/Tony Stark, Murder Boner, Overstimulation, Peter Parker Loves Wade Wilson, Phone Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Schizophrenic Wade Wilson, Sexting, Smut, Subdrop, Switch Wade Wilson, Top Drop, Top Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Loves Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson has Borderline Personality Disorder, baby dom Peter Parker, part of a series, switch peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/pseuds/Wolfloner
Summary: Peter and Wade haven't had much of a chance to spend any time together lately. This leads to nothing but poor decisions. (And phone sex.)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1051433
Comments: 73
Kudos: 174
Collections: DarkBloodWolf13's Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HAP BIRTH TO FBiNS
> 
> 2 years old today! Amaze!  
> I had really hoped to write something else specifically for that, but oh well.
> 
> Additional Warning: safeword use w/out a safeword? Idk how to tag that, though. Character says stop, so the scene stops.
> 
> Edit: forgot a warning, whoops.  
> A character is referred to as a "slut" twice, but only in a positive way. No shaming happening at all.

_ If I could speak I'd tell you all my fears and deprivations _ _  
_ _ If I could feel I'd take away your pain _ _  
_ _ If I could bleed I'd show you all my scars and imperfections _ _  
_ _ If I could breathe I'd hold you in my veins _ _  
_ —Seether, _ Let you Down  _

April brought with it a rush of activity. Weasel had a lengthy string of contracts that he was unwilling to pass off to anyone besides Deadpool. The last time he’d gotten to actually do anything useful in NYC was when he and Spidey went after some hypnotist fuckface calling himself Mesmero. It was a shame that he hadn't just been a huckster. Oh no, it couldn’t have been that easy. Fucker could  _ actually _ hypnotize people. And getting swarmed by civilians made it  _ very _ frustrating for Deadpool to do his job.

The point being, between his work and various Avengers stuff, he and Peter hadn’t had any real time together in over two weeks. 

At least they could text most days. Like right then, when a message from Peter popped up on his phone.

📷: You busy?

It wasn’t uncommon for Peter to text him in the middle of jobs. But he usually just sent whatever it was he wanted to share, and almost nothing that ever required a proper reply from Deadpool to continue the conversation. (Unless they were already talking, of course.)

He immediately started going through all the possible things that could have happened. The boxes were eager to join in and offer extra suggestions. 

_ He’s probably injured, _ Yellow teased,  _ and you’re  _ useless _ a few hundred miles away. _

_ No, no,  _ White countered,  _ there’s an invasion or a mutant is running amok. _

💀💩L: Is everything ok??

The handful of seconds it took for Peter to reply to him felt like  _ lifetimes. _

📷: No yeah everything is fine

He let out a long sigh of relief and told the boxes exactly where they could stick their panic-inducing suggestions. They booed him in return.

Deadpool finished kicking off his boots. He didn’t have anything to do until the next evening. This particular job was turning out to include far too much “hurry up and wait” for Deadpool’s taste. He’d gotten more than enough of that in his life, thank you very much.

So he flopped down heavily onto the motel room bed and replied.

💀💩L: Good. And no, not busy. Sup?

📷: Got a pic for you

Peter had been sending him random pictures for over two weeks. Apparently it was part of Peter’s love language. “I saw this neat thing and thought of you.” 

📷: You somewhere private?

💀💩L: ???

💀💩L: Yes?

**_< incoming file>_ **

Deadpool tilted his head as he waited for the file to load, curious about what Peter wanted to keep private.

The picture was of Peter standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, sinfully tight jeans, and a decidedly pleased expression. Deadpool loved it.

💀💩L: Lookin’ good!

📷: Glad you think so. 😘

Still, Deadpool couldn’t figure out why that had necessitated privacy. 

**_< Incoming File>_ **

He grinned at the next picture. A selfie of Peter unbuttoning his shirt with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Honestly, there was no reason that someone as  _ adorable _ as Peter should be able to pull that look off, but fuck him if he wasn’t. 

💀💩L: Are you sexting me?

📷: Yes

📷: Unless you want me to stop?

Deadpool smiled, wondering which expression Peter was wearing. Was he feeling flustered and awkward, or smug and teasing?

He wasn’t sure which he’d prefer. Flustered Peter was always a treat, but Smug Peter was…  _ unf. _

💀💩L: Def don’t want you to stop

**_< incoming file>_ **

Peter was on their bed, his hand shoved down his jeans. Deadpool couldn’t  _ see _ anything but the tease of possibilities made it all the better. Distantly he wondered what had brought this on, but he was far from complaining.

💀💩L: Omg baby boy!

**_< incoming file>_ **

He held his breath, staring intently at his phone, excited for what he was pretty sure was coming next…

Instead, it was another selfie. But this time Peter just looked unamused. Ah, right. The nickname. The nickname that at any given time Deadpool was  _ at least _ 90% sure Peter didn’t actually mind. 

💀💩L: Sorry, not sorry. That one’s staying

**_< incoming file>_ **

Peter had refastened his jeans. Which was disappointing, even if now he could see the beginnings of Peter’s hardon pressing against the fabric.

📷: You sure?

Deadpool guffawed. He was dealing with Smug Peter and it was  _ fantastic. _

💀💩L: You’re killing me

📷: Imagine how I feel

He giggled a bit more and waited for Peter to send another message. After a few minutes passed he had to accept that Peter was, apparently, serious.

💀💩L: Ok fine I’m sorry

📷: You just want to see my dick

Pete wasn’t exactly wrong.

💀💩L: Yup /pops p

📷: 🙄

**_< incoming file>_ **

Peter finally sent him a dick pic! His jeans and boxers were only shoved down enough to free the half-hard dick he was cradling in his hand.

📷: You’re lucky he misses you.

💀💩L: I miss him too

💀💩L: And you

📷: Where’s mine?

_ Where’s...?  _ Oh. Peter wanted reciprocation. That was… reasonable. He supposed. 

Without letting himself put too much thought into it, he shoved his own jeans down around his thighs and gripped himself punishingly. A few too-dry too-rough strokes and he was hard enough to at least take a decent enough picture.

He probably took more care with this picture than he had any other picture he’d taken in his life. He tried to make the best use of the shitty motel lighting to hide the worst of his scars. Then sent it off and waited.

📷: 7/10 Subject is centered, well-lit, and gorgeous but the blanket in the background is really distracting

Deadpool let out a relieved huff.

💀💩L: Are you fucking serious?

📷: Just shift your leg to the right a little

With a roll of his eyes—that no one else could see but whatever—he followed Peter’s suggestion and sent the new picture. 

📷: 👏👏👏

📷: Much better!

**_< Incoming File>_ **

Oh. Peter was harder now, the grip on his dick tight. He wasn’t shy about his body, at least not right now, and Deadpool could make out where he’d spread lube over himself.

💀💩L: Fuck sweetheart you’re incredible

📷: You’re not so bad yourself Deadpool

Deadpool felt a rush of pleasure at Peter using his name. It was at least ten times better knowing that Peter was holding his dick while he did it. Deadpool hoped he never got used to this feeling.

📷: You being rough with yourself?

Of course he was. He tightened his grip around the base of his dick before replying.

💀💩L: Yes

He could practically  _ feel _ Peter’s disapproval.

📷: I know you have lube with you babe

📷: Go get it

Deadpool pouted at the screen but didn’t reply with an argument. Instead, he shuffled off the bed and grabbed the little packet of lube from the Lube Pocket in his suit. Ha. He’d told Peter that keeping it on him was a good idea.

He settled back down on the bed and slicked himself up. Then he sent Peter a new picture.

📷: Much better *now* you can be as rough as you want

📷: As long as you show me

This kid was going to kill him. He groaned and stripped his cock until he was fully hard before sending another picture. It took longer than before for Peter to reply.

📷: Lovely

His skin itched at the compliment.

📷: You deserve a reward

Deadpool just snorted.

💀💩L: That’s not going to work right now

📷: That sounds like a challenge

**_< Incoming file>_ **

Instead of a picture, Peter had sent him a short video. He couldn’t hit play fast enough.

Ten beautiful seconds of Peter giving him a crooked smile before pinching his left nipple. Fuck, he was definitely doing it harder than Deadpool had ever dared while touching him. His boy let out a small hiss but Deadpool could see his eyes darkening. The clip ended with Peter letting out a soft sigh and looking directly into the camera. It felt like he was staring straight into his soul.

Did he have a soul?

Oops, wrong thing to focus on.

“Shit,” he breathed.

💀💩L: Vid chat?

📷: Earn it

Deadpool definitely didn’t whine at that reply. But he  _ did _ very much wish that he wasn’t three states away from his boyfriend. And maybe that he didn’t find Peter’s behavior so fucking hot.

💀💩L: How?

📷: 🤔

A few minutes passed, which was more than enough time for Deadpool to start getting nervous. Then, finally:

📷: Walk me through a fantasy

He swallowed. Nevermind, he didn’t mind Peter telling him what to do anymore.

💀💩L: K, gimme a sec

_ Fuck. _ What kind of fantasy? What kind of thing was Peter wanting to hear from him? What kind of thing would turn Peter on?

💀💩L: I have a lot. Guidance?

📷: Lol cute. But ok

📷: Tell me about something you want to do to me

📷: In detail

That helped a little. The fantasy needed to involve Peter bottoming, he had plenty of those.

So of course everything that was coming to mind involved Peter doing shit to him.

_ Not helpful, brain. _

He mindlessly stroked his cock while he thought about it. He let the low burn of pleasure help guide his thoughts.

💀💩L: Got one

📷: 😘

💀💩L: 🥰

Deadpool released his dick and wiped his hand off on the blanket beside him. He was going to need two hands to type this out.

💀💩L: Picture it: Sicily, 1922

💀💩L: We’re in bed. Our bedroom maybe. Doesn’t matter

💀💩L: Actually I’m kind of picturing this in the backroom of Hellhouse. There’s a couch back there

📷: You want to have sex in the back of a bar?

💀💩L: Kinda? That bar specifically though, not just any bar

📷: …

📷: I’m gonna picture this in our bedroom

Deadpool grinned. Peter had asked for a fantasy with him topping, and Deadpool wasn’t going to disappoint.

💀💩L: So, we’re on the couch. I’m settled between your legs. Of course one of your legs is hanging off the side because we’re on a couch, but you get the idea.

💀💩L: I promise it’s a clean couch

📷: 😒 Do you want to fuck me on this couch IRL?

He thought about it for a moment.

💀💩L: A bit

📷: Jfc babe

📷: Not happening

💀💩L: Aww

Deadpool was pretty sure he could talk Peter into it. Eventually.

💀💩L: Anyway, I’m between your legs. Let’s say we’re both naked

📷: Sure

💀💩L: And I’m leaning over you, touching you everywhere. Except where you really want me to touch, ofc. Just as slow and light as I can stand. (But not too light, I don’t want to tickle you)

📷: I appreciate that

💀💩L: Thought you might

💀💩L: I might pinch your nipples from time to time if that video was anything to go by

💀💩L: But not often. Like I said, not touching where you want me to

💀💩L: At least one of us is enjoying finding all the ways you react to different things though. All the sinful noises I can draw out of you

💀💩L: With my fingers. My nails. My tongue

📷: You’re teeth

📷: Your*

Deadpool snorted at Peter taking the time to correct a typo even while sexing. It was super adorbs. 

💀💩L: Would you like that Sweetheart?

💀💩L: Following up my tongue with my lips and teeth? Nipping at every sensitive place of yours we discover? Sucking bruises into your skin until you’re aching and wet and panting and I haven’t even touched your sweet little cock yet

The phone rang in his hand and the camera emoji that he used to represent Peter flashed on the screen. He hit the green button and didn’t get a chance to say so much as “Hi,” before Peter was speaking.

“It’s not little.”

He grinned at Peter’s mildly insulted expression. It was hard to take it too seriously when it was coupled with the light flush that went down to his chest and his quickened breathing.

“I meant it with love, Petey. You don’t need to defend your cock to me, you know I love it.”

After a moment Peter broke and returned his smile. “Yeah, you’re kind of a slut for it, huh?”

Oh, that felt  _ good. _ He hoped he’d remember to start a list of things he was definitely ok with being called in bed. And that he’d remember to add  _ slut _ to it.

Deadpool was never going to get tired of Smug and Confident Peter. Especially when he was being smug and confident about sexy things. “I am absolutely your slut.” Ok. That wasn’t  _ quite _ what he’d meant to say. But Peter’s eyes were shining with delight so he wasn’t inclined to correct himself.

“Have you been typing with both hands?”

“Huh?”

“I can see your arms.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. You deserve the effort of two hands.”

Peter snorted and Deadpool could see his shoulders shaking a little.

“That’s right I am,” he agreed. “But so are you.”

Heady pleasure  _ suffused _ Deadpool’s chest as he tried to figure out just what they were even saying to each other. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

“Were you touching yourself while I painted my little word picture?”

“Word picture,” Peter echoed, shaking his head. “And yeah. How could I not?” His expression turned foxlike. “Want to see?”

"What kind of a question is that?"

“Alright. One condition.”

Deadpool raised his brows but he couldn’t think of a condition he was likely to turn down. “Name it.”

“I want to see you too—stop making that face, ‘Pool. Like I said earlier, your dick is lovely and gorgeous and deserves being admired.”

He knew exactly what face he’d been making—and that he was still making it. Still, he wasn’t going to turn this down. Didn’t mean he had to love the idea. “It’s really not, but fine. Whatever floats your scrote. Just give me a second.” He turned on the rear camera and angled it towards his dick. “Tada.”

“Aww, he looks lonely.”

Deadpool wondered if the phone would pick up his muttered,  _ “Jesus Christ…” _

“Be nice to your dick.” Peter looked like he was trying for chastisement.

“Thought you said I could be as rough as I wanted?”

“Yep. You had your chance, ‘Pool. Now I’m telling you to be nice to yourself.” Peter’s expression was soft, but his tone was just sharp enough to hold Deadpool’s focus.

Deadpool frowned before realizing that Peter couldn’t see it. “Wasn’t I gonna get to see you, too?” He whined.

“You’ll get your chance. After you do what I ask.”

“When did you get so bossy?” Deadpool half-heartedly complained.

“When you fucked up and told me you liked it. Now,” Deadpool saw the flickers of pleasure on Peter’s face and could hear that he’d started touching himself again. “Ball’s in your court, Deadpool.”

Deadpool swallowed. He wouldn’t particularly mind just watching Peter’s expressions while he jerked off. But Peter, for some reason, wanted to watch him stroke his cock. Even with this he didn’t want to disappoint him.

He wrapped his fingers around his dick and let out a pleased sigh at the pressure. He waited for a few seconds, just squeezing himself, before starting to stroke. Slowly.

“See? Feels good, right babe?”

“”Yeah,” he agreed. Even if it wasn’t what he really wanted—and definitely wasn’t what would get him off—it still felt good.

He caught Peter’s fond smile before the camera changed and Deadpool got a perfect view of Peter’s cock. He was stroking himself in time with Deadpool. Curious, Deadpool tightened his grip and watched Peter do the same.

“Pete,” Deadpool breathed. It made him not want to be rough with himself. 

“Yeah?”

“I…” Maybe four years of dealing with his mutation was wrong, and he  _ could _ come like this. If he was being gentled along by Peter’s voice.

“You’re ok, ‘Pool,” Peter said. He was confused until he realized he’d been making a weird high pitched noise. “My turn to share a fantasy now, right?”

“Please.” The last time Peter had had a fantasy it wound up involving knives. Deadpool was more than a little curious to know if it was a trend.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Peter admitted. He shifted the way he was stroking his dick and Deadpool easily followed his lead. “About how to take you apart.”

He groaned and his hips jerked up against his hand. He could hear Peter letting out a soft laugh.

“First, I’m going to web your hands together.” Peter wasn’t describing a fantasy. He was telling Deadpool what was  _ going to happen. _ His mouth went dry and his entire focus turned to Peter’s words. “You’re going to hold them above your head for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll hold as still as I ask while I work you open with our collection of dilators.” 

Objectively Deadpool knew that dilators wasn’t a sexy word. It just wasn’t. Until Peter was promising to use them on him. Then he didn’t know.

“And it’ll be  _ slow _ but I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Revenge?” He asked hoarsely.

“Nope. I’m gonna do it because you’re worth it.” Deadpool twitched at the words, something niggling for attention through his pleasure. “I’m gonna do it that way so I have all the time in the world to show you how much I love you. How important you are to me. How cherished.”

“Pete,” he whimpered.

“You  _ are,”  _ Peter insisted. “And I’m not going to stop until you believe me.”

Deadpool took in a shaky breath, his grip loosening over his dick. “I…”

“You’re so Good Deadpool, and—”

“Stop.” He dropped the phone and curled up on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop shaking.

“Babe?” Peter’s voice sounded far away.

Because he was far away. Miles and miles away. If he was here, next to him, he’d never be able to say things like that. He’d never want to.

“Deadpool, I need you to talk to me,” Peter said. Then, when he didn’t reply, “Or at least let me see your face?”

He could manage that part, he decided. He tapped the screen to return to the front camera and balanced it loosely so he didn’t have to move from where he was laying. Peter had done the same.

“Are you ok?”

He shrugged.

“I’m so sorry, I.” Peter faltered, guilt and shame written all over his face. “You were uncomfortable and I don’t know when to shut my fucking mouth.” Peter swallowed then looked back into the camera. “Was it calling you “Good”?”

He turned his head away from the phone, hoping that was enough of an answer.

“I know you have a hard time seeing yourself that way—” He interrupted Peter with a harsh laugh. He didn’t  _ have a hard time _ with it. He was  _ factually, objectively _ Bad. He murdered people for a living! “But,” Peter continued. “I see you like that. And I want you to know it.”

He just shook his head.

“Deadpool—”

“Wade,” he corrected quietly. He closed his eyes again, not wanting to see Peter’s expression.

“Wade,” Peter amended. “I’m so sorry.”

He just shrugged again.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Peter asked.

“No.” He forced himself to sit up and look at the phone properly. He was still shaking and his breath was still painful and ragged. “I’m sorry, Peter, I—”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Peter interrupted. Even from the limited viewpoint of the camera, Wade could see Peter folding in on himself. Making himself small. It made his heart break. “I should have been paying attention and… I’m glad you stopped me.”

Wade nodded slowly.

They fell quiet and Wade looked away from his phone, instead staring up at the popcorn ceiling. All he heard was their breathing. Oh, and the boxes. They were kickin up all sorts of a fuss, but Wade wasn’t even going to try to follow their rambling.

“Can we talk?” Wade asked when they were finally too much.

“Yeah, of course. About what happened, or…?”

Wade shook his head. “Something else. They’re,” he tapped the side of his head, “getting really loud.”

“Ok,” Peter fixed him with a small, but genuine, smile. “What did you do today?”

He did his best to return the smile, but it was shaky at best. “A lot of boring stuff, mostly.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Wade stretched, popping his back. He was grateful for the chance to think about something else for a while. “So, my target, who I’m not telling you anything about, is something of a recluse. Hangs out in his very guarded house most of the time.”

“Not a mansion?”

“Nah. He’s not big-time or anything. But his security is still top-notch. Which, you know, is suspect in and of itself. Anyway, it’s not like I  _ couldn’t _ get in there and take care of him.”

“Of course.”

“It’s just too high a risk. Better to wait for him to leave his house. Which he should be doing tomorrow evening.”

Peter let out a soft chuckle. “Since when are you worried about  _ risk?” _

“Ok, one, fuck you. I’ve always considered risk while I’m working.”

“Right, my mistake. You’re ever the professional.”

Wade narrowed his eyes at Peter’s barely contained grin. He was glad that Peter was willing to tease him a bit. “That’s right Baby Boy, I am. And don’t you forget it.” Peter flushed, either at his words, or his tone, Wade wasn’t sure. “I was right, you  _ do _ like when I call you that.”

“No,” Peter huffed. “I mean. Maybe a little. Sometimes.”

Another time, Wade would have crowed with his victory. Right then he just celebrated with a smile. 

“Was there more?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Two! ...I am maybe a bit more willing to err on the side of caution lately.”

Peter perked up. “What changed?”

Wade ran a hand over his head. “If anything goes sideways, I can’t have anyone trace shit back to you.”

A small “o” of surprise greeted his statement. Followed by Peter’s face breaking into a huge warm smile. “I hope I’m not making your job harder.”

“Not really,” Wade assured him. “It means I get to be more creative.” As he started to calm back down he realized his jeans were still down around his thighs. It was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, too. “One sec, Pete.” He set the phone down so he could wiggle his pants back up.

Peter giggled at him. “Were you getting cold?”

“Hush.” He picked the phone back up. “I  _ am _ probably going to miss out on a bonus with this job, though.”

“Oh? You get bonuses?”

“Sort of. Once in awhile someone will offer extra if I take care of their problem in whatever specific way they’re imagining.”

“Makes sense, I guess?”

“Pfft. No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter  _ how _ shit happens, so long as it does.”

“‘Cause they’re dead either way?”

He gave an acknowledging head tilt. “Or injured, or scared, or have decided that, why yes, they  _ did _ mean to pay their debt, how silly of them for getting distracted.”

Peter hummed. Wade knew his attempt at sidetracking away from mentioning murder didn’t really work. But Peter was letting it go. “What did they want you to do this time?”

Wade tsked. “Remember when I said I wasn’t going to tell you anything about this?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Nope, no buts. Plausible deniability.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Plus maybe I don’t like you  _ knowing _ what I’m doing out here.”

“I mean, I already have a pretty good idea, Babe.” Peter gave him a curious look.

“But only to a point,” he stressed. “The less you know-know about what Deadpool does, the better.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he chewed at his bottom lip. “Uh, I just had a thought, and I know you said you don’t want to talk about what happened, but it’s related to that.”

Wade  _ really _ didn’t want to talk about what happened. He was starting to feel better, damn it. He’d rather chew glass if given the opportunity. But Wade also knew that Peter wouldn’t be bringing it up if he didn’t think it was important. “It’s fine,” he lied, “go ahead.”

“I, um. I sn—you kind of snapped out of your Deadpool headspace really suddenly.”

“Yeah? That happens sometimes. It doesn’t hurt me or anything.” Sometimes it messed with his already tenuous hold on reality though. But, well, nothing to do about that now. 

“No, I mean, is that going to mess up the rest of your job?”

Wade tilted his head. “Why would it?”

“Uh…”

“I can get back to that headspace pretty easily when I need to. Don’t worry.” Then, as an afterthought, “And if I can’t, I can still handle this job anyway.”

Peter was still frowning.

“I mean it, Sweetheart. I’ve been doing this sort of thing way longer than Deadpool has existed.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel better about this,” Peter muttered.

It was Wade’s turn to frown a little. He wanted desperately to move on to any other topic, but he  _ also _ had a question now, and he knew he’d drive himself nuts if he didn’t ask. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“You prefer to separate the stuff I do as Deadpool from the rest of me, don’t you?”

“What? No, of course…” Peter stopped. Wade watched a flurry of emotions cross his face. “Oh. Maybe.”

“Didn’t realize you were doing it?”

He shook his head. “You’re  _ you. _ And being Deadpool is part of that.”

“Yep,” Wade agreed.

“Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

Wade laughed. “Nah. Well, at least not about this.”

“But it bothered you before!” Peter insisted. “When I couldn’t answer if I thought of Wade and Deadpool as different people.”

“You said you don’t.”

“And I don’t.” Peter looked conflicted, staring downwards.

“Petey-pie, look at me.” Peter’s gaze jumped back to the screen. “Compartmentalizing this isn’t you being an asshole.”  _ It’s a trauma response. _

His boyfriend looked far from convinced and Wade had to shove down all the nasty disparaging things he wanted to say about himself. It didn’t matter that they were true, it wouldn’t  _ help. _

“I’ll try to stop it.”

“What, why?”

“Because I mean it when I say that I love  _ all _ of you. Including the scary murdery part of you.”

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry at Peter’s determination. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Not for you to decide,” Peter declared. “I’ve decided that that’s how I feel. Unless you want to tell me that I’m not allowed to feel certain ways?”

Wade huffed. “Brat,” he muttered fondly. 

Peter smiled at the endearment. “Can I ask one more thing? About this?”

“Hmm?”

“Can… can I tell you when you’re  _ doing _ or  _ being _ Good?”

“I…” Wade blinked, trying to imagine it. “I don’t know?” He offered lamely. “I think that  _ should _ be ok.”

Peter nodded. “Wade.”

“Yeah?”

“You do a Good job as my boyfriend.”

Wade shifted uncertainly at the praise but… it didn’t feel bad? Weird, maybe.

“And you’re Good when you’re taking care of Ellie,” he continued cautiously. When Wade didn’t ask him to stop, he kept going. “You care a lot about me, and Ellie, and even people you’ve never met.”

“No, I—”

“If you didn’t, you would just take whatever money people offered you, no questions asked.”

“That’s just for me. I don’t like being used.”

“I know you don’t. But they wouldn’t be using you in that scenario, right? They offer you a job that you’re free to take or leave as you like.”

“Maybe?”

“What I’m trying to say here,” Peter paused, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you’re not always a Good person,” he allowed. “But you still  _ do _ a lot of Good things. And I see you, Wade Wilson.”

Wade shuddered. Tears were burning at the edges of his eyes. Peter’s sincerity was overwhelming but not like it had been earlier. “I try,” he whispered.

“I know you do. That’s why I love you so much.”

A traitorous tear escaped. “Thank you.”

* * *

**Peter**

A few days later Peter holed himself up in what might generously be called “his” section of the lab under Avengers Tower. Technically it was more accurate to say that it was Bruce’s space, but since Bruce was rarely there, Peter had started using it for his more time-consuming and complicated projects. 

Right then he was trying to work on an altered formula for his webs that could be used for Kinky Fun Times™. But he was finding it nearly impossible to focus. He’d been listless and easily distracted ever since their phone sex attempt had gone wrong.

He wasn’t sure that Wade would even be interested in letting Peter control a scene anymore.

Peter groaned and rested his forehead against the notebook in front of him. He wasn’t sure that  _ he _ trusted himself enough now.

Someone entered the lab, and it took all of two footsteps before he was certain that it was Tony who had stopped in front of him. Not that there were many other likely suspects though, to be fair.

“You ok, Pete?”

“Yeah?” He offered, not raising his head.

“You sure?”

“Have you been watching me?” Peter challenged, finally moving so that he could glare at Tony.

“No. JARVIS has been, though. And he’s worried.” So was Tony, going by the expression on his face.

“I don’t know,” he amended, leaning back in his chair. “Like, I’m ok, but…” He looked back down at his notebook as if it might have the answers he needed. It wasn’t like Tony would actually want to talk to him about this anyway. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Tony sighed and ignored him, dragging a chair over so he could sit across the table. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Pete.” When Peter didn’t look up he continued. “Look, if you don’t want to talk to me about what’s bothering you, that’s fine. Just tell me that. I just want to make sure you know I’m here for you.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I just… You don’t want to hear about this anyway.”

“Try me.”

Peter sighed. “It’s about sex.”

He could see Tony nodding in his periphery. “Ok.”

“Ok?” Peter echoed, actually looking up to judge Tony’s expression. “Figured you’d rather pretend I don’t have sex.”

Tony shrugged. “Too fuckin’ bad for me, then, huh? It’s way more important for me to know you have access to good information.”

Peter snorted. “And you’re an expert?”

“As you said yourself, I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“Fine. Ok, so… Have you ever been doing, uh? Things? With someone?” He paused again to try to figure out how he wanted to word the situation he’d found himself in.

“Yep,” Tony interrupted his thoughts. “I have indeed done things. With people.”

He huffed. “Jerk,” he muttered quietly. “I mean… Have you ever been doing whatever with someone and then suddenly had things just…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Like, a little thing goes wrong, and then the whole thing falls apart?”

Tony snorted but managed to keep from laughing after seeing Peter’s hurt glare. “Shit, sorry. I’m not laughing  _ at you,  _ I promise. It’s more that I might  _ actually  _ an expert in having sex fall apart on me.”

“Oh.” He shifted. “And that doesn’t just… fuck stuff up?”

“Fuck stuff up how?”

“Between you and your partner.”

“It can,” Tony allowed, “sometimes. But not necessarily. A lot of the time it’s more likely to just kill the mood for that day. If for that long. I mean, hell, just with Loki I’ve—ah. You probably don’t want any details.”

Peter was torn. He didn’t want to pry, but he also couldn’t help but be curious. “I don’t mind if it doesn’t bother you?”

Tony looked surprised before chuckling. “Ok. So, fairly early on in our relationship, we were having sex and, uh. I was… in charge.”

“Domming, you mean?” He couldn’t even try to feign surprise that Tony and Loki engaged in some sort of BDSM related stuff.

Tony did actually look uncomfortable at Peter’s assessment, though. If for only a moment. “Yes. I was domming.”

“And you fucked up a little?”

“I fucked up  _ a lot.” _

As far as Peter was aware, Tony and Loki’s relationship was perfectly fine now. “What happened?—I don’t mean, like, specifics, or what you did. But what happened  _ after?” _

“After…” Tony scratched at his beard. “Afterwards we talked it over. And haven’t done that again.”

“So you guys were ok?”

“We’re still together,” Tony pointed out. “But yes. We’re definitely better at communicating now.” 

Peter let out a heavy exhale.

“Do you want to give me an idea of what happened? Maybe I can give you some advice.”

“I said the wrong thing,” Peter admitted, no longer meeting Tony’s eyes. “And it really messed with Wade.”

“Is he mad at you?” Tony asked evenly.

“No,” Peter shook his head. “Or, if he is, he’s really good at hiding it.”

“So is he ok now?”

“I think so?” He shrugged. “Honestly, we haven’t gotten to see each other much since then. We managed to eat breakfast together yesterday. That was the most time we’ve spent together while both of us were conscious for like…” He thought back. “Nearly a month?”

Tony whistled. “That’s a long time. Sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.”

“It also means you’ve had plenty of time to just stew on what happened, right?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. But I should feel bad about it, shouldn’t I?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because I really upset him. I should have known he wasn’t in a good headspace for what I said and—”

“Peter, breathe.” Peter glared at Tony’s tone. “It’s good that you’re aware of the potential consequences, ok? And that you know that saying the wrong thing when someone is vulnerable can hurt them.”

“Then—”

“But.” Tony cut him off. “I’m assuming you apologized?”

“Of course!”

“Then your job from here on out is to be mindful and to try to avoid hurting him again. Beating yourself up about it won’t help anything.”

Peter frowned and pulled his arms around himself. What Tony was saying made a lot of sense. But letting himself off the hook just felt  _ wrong. _ He sighed and said as much.

“That’s understandable,” Tony assured him. “And if he’s up to it, you and Wade should probably talk about whatever happened. Make sure that  _ he _ knows how seriously you’re taking your mistake.”

After a moment Peter nodded again. “Yeah. I think he’ll be back home in a few days.” Then, “On that note, in a few days I’m gonna be unavailable for anything below Apocalypse-Level Avengers stuff.”

Tony laughed. “Noted.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, but edited w/ Grammarly. All mistakes are mine.  
> Uploading really fast before work, lol. May come back and edit better later.  
> HMU if you see any glaring issues.

_ If I could breathe I'd show you all my infantile obsessions _ _  
_ _ If I could sleep I'd hold you in my head _ _  
_ _ If I was strong I'd keep you close and render you defenseless _ _  
_ _ If I was gone I'd hope you take my place _ _  
_ —Seether,  _ Let You Down _

Another week passed and Peter still hadn’t been able to spend any real time with Wade. Certainly not enough to actually  _ talk _ about what had happened. And Wade still had “one more job” before he could promise a few days of free time. Peter wanted to complain but Wade seemed exceptionally passionate about this one, so he wasn’t going to interfere.

Instead, he announced in no uncertain terms that he was going to join Wade and just  _ go with him. _

Wade started to laugh when Peter told him that but stopped when he realized that Peter was serious. “Baby, I miss you too, but that’s absolutely not happening.”

Peter crossed his arms. “It absolutely is.”

“No.” Wade crossed his arms in return.

“Look, I won’t come with you on the actual job stuff. I’ll just hang out in the motel or wherever you’re staying.”

“Because that went so well last time?”

“Yes?” Peter let out an exasperated huff. “Because it did? And it’ll go even better this time?”

He watched as Wade pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He was obviously tempted. Peter could work with that. 

“Please?” He tried, stepping closer. “You know I won’t let anything bad happen.”

“Pete…”

“Yes?”

Wade’s arms fell to the side. “You’re being unfair, you know that, right?”

Peter tilted his head innocently. “Since when am I expected to play fair?”

His boyfriend’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Fine. But if this goes badly, it’s  _ never _ happening again, got it?”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Peter dismissed. “But it’s  _ not _ going to go badly.”

"I'm still as against this as much as someone can be and still let it happen." 

* * *

Peter still had to very intentionally ignore the fact that they were driving towards someone that Wade was planning to hurt/maim/kill.

Somehow it didn’t take long for his mind to settle down and just enjoy the novelty of riding somewhere that  _ wasn’t _ New York. The farther they traveled, the less traffic they saw, and the wide-open road was a welcome change of pace. 

Their light conversation flowed smoothly as they caught up, joked, and just generally enjoyed each other’s company. Wade had swatted at his leg when Peter had tried to prop his feet up on the dashboard. Something, something, it not being safe. Peter had scoffed but still tucked his feet back down. 

They’d been driving for the better part of three hours before the voice in the back of his head started bugging him. This was as good a chance to talk about what had happened as any. They still had another five hours of driving so hopefully they’d be able to talk through it.

“Hey, Wade?” Peter interrupted Wade’s stream of consciousness. Wade didn’t turn his eyes from the road but he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I dunno if this is a conversation we should have when you’re driving, but I really feel the need to bring it up.”

“What’s on your mind Sweetheart?”

“What happened last week. During the, uh. Phone sex.”

Wade was quiet for a moment. “It’s not a big deal, Petey. Things like that happen sometimes.”

“No, I know. But,” Peter stared resolutely ahead. “I still want to apologize.”

“You already did. It’s fine.”

Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Wade’s resistance. “Can I just say one thing about it? I mean, I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” Wade corrected. “Well, maybe a little. But mostly I just don’t want you beating yourself up about what happened.”

“And I’m not!”  _ Anymore. _ “It’s more… I promise to pay better attention in the future. And I’ll try to be more mindful of the things that I can do that would upset you.”

Wade did glance over at him then, a smirk on his face. “You’ve been practicing that, haven’t you?”

“I wouldn’t call it  _ practicing,” _ Peter grumbled. “But yeah, I put a lot of thought into what I wanted to say.”

“I appreciate it, Petey-pie. A lot.” He reached over and patted Peter’s leg. “And hey, as far as mistakes go with this sort of thing, that’s far from the worst thing you could have done. I’m sure next time will go way smoother. 

Peter let out a metaphorical breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. “So you  _ do _ want to do that kind of thing again?”

“Uh, yeah.” Wade laughed. “Of course I do.”

"I'm really glad," Peter admitted.

Wade glanced over long enough to wink at him. "Did you really think one less-than-great experience was going to scare me off?"

"Not really, but… It might've. So having confirmation is nice."

"Well, I can confirm I'm up for trying anything you think of."

"Yeah? Including what I suggested the other day? Uh, minus the last bit, of course."

"You mean the tying me up and fucking me until I lose my mind?"

"That's not how I described it."

"But it's how I interpreted it. And yeah, I'm very  _ very _ up for that."

Peter grinned to himself. "When we're back home?"

"You sure you want to suggest something like that? 'Cause I'll jump you the second the door closes."

"Not if I jump you first," Peter teased. 

However this turned job turned out, they had something to look forward to.

* * *

Once they had checked into the motel Peter and Wade spent that first night cuddling and mocking the terrible movies the local channels were playing. The next morning Wade suited up and Deadpool pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving. Peter hadn’t gotten him to say anything about the person he was going after, except that he was  _ certain _ they were someone who deserved what was coming to them.

Peter didn’t really want to think about what was coming to them.

Instead, he spent the next few hours lounging on the bed in his PJs, scrolling through Instagram and Tumblr. He wasn’t sure how long this job was supposed to take, but he was reasonably sure that Deadpool would contact him if he needed any assistance. (Even if he’d argued against Peter bringing his suit along.)

Just as he’d started digging through the dregs of the Pokemon Sword/Shield tag on Tumblr, his Senses perked up, grabbing his attention. Deadpool was nearby. Peter set his phone aside and listened closely. Yep, those were his boots on the concrete stairs. The sense of  _ runfightdanger _ got stronger when he caught the metallic tang of blood on the air. 

Peter shivered, trying to ignore his instincts. But without even realizing he was moving, the second Deadpool turned the doorhandle Peter found himself upside down. He was clinging to the ceiling and had shuffled back into the darkest corner of the room.

Deadpool laughed at his tactical retreat, letting the door fall closed behind him. “Comfortable up there, Spidey?”

Cold adrenaline coursed through Peter’s body, leaving him shaky as he forced his way back across the ceiling. He could only imagine how pale he looked as he dropped down onto the mattress in front of his boyfriend. Saying that he loved his scary murdery parts was a lot easier when he wasn’t face to face with them.

He whimpered when Deadpool pressed their foreheads together. “Hey there, kiddo.”

It felt like blood was coating his nose and mouth, and down his throat. All he could do was reach out and cling to the strap across Deadpool’s chest to keep himself from bolting again as his Senses screeched at him. He didn’t even have the energy to snark at the one nickname he  _ actually _ doesn’t like, instead, he was concentrating on fighting with his lungs. 

But Deadpool didn’t push, he was still as he waited for Peter to calm back down. Peter decided it would be easier if he took Deadpool’s mask off. His eyes were closed when Peter dropped the mask to the side. When they opened, Peter found that he was right, it  _ was _ easier when he could see him properly.

“Hi.”

“Missed you.”

Deadpool pulled Peter closer, pulling him up to his knees and across the bed a little. Peter welcomed the kiss even—or especially—when Deadpool’s gloved fingers dug into his hair and  _ gripped. _ He especially welcomed how Deadpool had pulled their bodies against each other.

“Is that a gun or are you happy to see me?”

That earned a laugh. Then Deadpool glanced down as if to check, and Peter felt a little more concerned.

“Both!”

Peter glanced down with him and shook his head. “Ditch the weapons, ‘Pool.”

Deadpool’s eyes brightened as he did what Peter asked, dropping his swords and guns with more care than he might have thought possible given his urgency. “Better?”

“Much better,” Peter agreed. With the weapons gone he could breathe again, and his Senses finally started calming down.

Peter opened his arms and Deadpool returned immediately, bouncing in this enthusiasm. Peter pressed a kiss to his neck and Deadpool’s fingers dug into his back.

“I have to ask you something,” Peter mumbled against his skin.

“You really don’t.”

“Did you kill them?”

Deadpool’s grip tightened, the leather slipping against Peter’s skin. “Yes.”

Given how much blood he could smell, Peter was far from surprised. “But they deserved it?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Peter kissed him again. “Are you horny because of me or because of the killing?”

It took Deadpool a moment to reply. “Both.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about having sex with Deadpool when he was thinking about murder. Savoring it, even. His indecision wasn’t helped by the phrase  _ murder boner _ popping into his head, making him giggle.

“Are you disappointed?” Deadpool asked quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

And Peter wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. Of course, he’d have preferred for Deadpool to find a way to stop the person without killing them, but he also knew Deadpool didn’t take these jobs lightly. “I trust your judgment,” he decided.

Deadpool moaned, his hips jerking forward against Peter’s. Which wasn’t the reaction Peter had expected, but it wasn’t like he minded. 

After kissing Peter’s forehead again, Deadpool pulled back enough to slip an arm between them and fondled Peter’s dick. Peter closed his eyes as Deadpool kissed him again, licking into his mouth. After a minute or two, he winced and hissed into Deadpool’s mouth as biology took over and he started getting hard.

“Sorry,” Deadpool released him immediately and started to step back. 

But Peter was faster and grabbed onto his arm. He swallowed. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”

Deadpool’s eyes widened as they watched the other’s face. Peter knew that the odds of ever talking Wade into helping him satisfy this particular bit of curiosity were slim at best. But with Deadpool, there was a  _ chance. _

“What  _ are  _ you asking me to do?”

Peter guided Deadpool’s hand back to his dick. “I want you to  _ make me _ come.”

The hand cradling his dick is surprisingly gentle. Especially in contrast to the way Deadpool’s other hand grabbed the back of his neck. “You think you want that, Sweetheart?” His tone was mildly condescending and it made Peter’s hackles raise.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

Deadpool rubbed the palm of his glove against the head of Peter’s dick. “You think you’ll enjoy it?”

“Probably not really,” Peter admitted.

“So why ask for it?”

“Because I want to know what it’s like.”

Deadpool just chuckled. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I’m allowed to be curious about how my body reacts to shit, aren’t I?” Peter snapped.

“Sure,” Deadpool said. “But why not explore it by yourself.”

Peter was the first to break eye contact. “I’ve tried.”

“And?”

Peter gasped as Deadpool’s thumb pressed against his slit. “D-Didn’t work. S’hard. Too much and…” 

He shuddered when Deadpool released him, only for his fingers to play along the band of his sleep pants instead. “And it didn’t feel good, did it?” Peter could only shake his head. “So you want me to do something that you know you won’t enjoy?”

“Only kind of.”

“Oh, you only  _ kind of _ want me to do it?”

Peter forced himself to meet Deadpool’s eyes again. “No. I mean I’ll only kind of not enjoy it. You know. Hopefully, it’ll be the fun kind of not enjoying something?”

Deadpool narrowed his eyes in thought, and Peter did his best to just keep looking at him. Eventually, the silence stretched longer than Peter was comfortable with.

“Are you arguing with the boxes?”

“A little,” Deadpool said.

“What about?”

“That I enjoy the idea too much. That I’ll scare you, or hurt you.”

Peter smiled. “Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t enjoying it,” he pointed out. “Tell you what, if it gets to be too much, I’ll say pineapple.”

Deadpool  _ growled _ at that. “You think you need a safeword Baby Boy?”

“I… I don’t know. But I might struggle or say no or something without actually wanting you to stop, right?”

He watched as Deadpool’s pupils dilated even further. He could smell his precum as it leaked in his suit. 

“Ok,” Deadpool agreed. Peter yelped when his gloves dove down the back of his pants, kneading at his ass. “Gotta get you undressed first.”

Peter nodded and helped shuffle until he could kick his pants off. Deadpool watched every inch of exposed skin with a hungry look in his eyes. 

After a moment Deadpool reached down his own pants long enough to remove his cup. Then he settled behind Peter on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He guided Peter back so he was laying against him. 

“I’m not gonna stop until you’re crying from how good you feel,” Deadpool whispered into his ear before sucking the lobe between his lips. Peter gasped at just that, and briefly hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. 

He let Deadpool spread his legs and relaxed against him. “At least take your gloves off,” he mumbled. 

Deadpool laughed and pulled his gloves off. His teeth grazed Peter’s neck as his fingers circled his dick. 

“Oh, dammit, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Deadpool soothed, shifting around behind him.

“DP, what—?”

Deadpool held out a small bottle of lube for Peter to see. “Figured you might appreciate this.”

“Oh,” Peter smiled. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Although, I don’t know. Do my scars feel extra interesting against your dick?”

Peter hummed. “Yeah. Lube doesn’t interfere with that, though. I can feel you just fine either way.”

Deadpool’s hand wrapped around him and started stroking slowly. Peter breathed through the oversensitivity and let out a deep sigh. 

“Good boy,” Deadpool whispered. “Just let go, I’ll take care of you.”

His free hand wandered up, his nails dragging across Peter’s stomach and chest. Peter jerked when Deadpool’s thumb started rubbing gentle circles over his nipple. When Deadpool caught it between his fingers it was only light pressure, but Peter still whimpered. 

Deadpool’s hand left his nipple and moved up again, lightly pressing against the front of Peter’s throat. It didn’t feel like a threat, just more stimulation. The hand around his dick sped up, paying more attention to the sensitive head or occasionally dropping down to caress his balls. 

“Fuck,” Peter squeaked, squirming in Deadpool’s hold. Deadpool wasn’t dissuaded and just held him tighter. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it might as well have been  _ hours _ as far as Peter could tell. He felt every second that passed as Deadpool continued stroking and touching and kissing and pinching until Peter was certain he was shaking apart. 

Peter writhed and twisted, whimpered and swore. But it wasn’t until a broken sob escaped his throat that Deadpool started to slow down. He didn’t stop stroking him, but his grip loosened.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, his voice warm against Peter’s face.

He shook his head, his fingers digging into the blanket under them hard enough to tear.

“Need to hear your words, Sweetheart.”

Peter was out of breath, his voice shaky, when he managed a quiet, “Keep going.”

Deadpool ground against him. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

He took Peter at his word, tightening his grip and focusing on all the places that he knew Peter loved. This time when he pinched one of Peter’s nipples it was harsh, and Peter  _ wailed _ trying to curl in on himself. But Deadpool wouldn’t let him. He just wrapped his arm around Peter’s chest and held him tightly.

The next sound out of Peter was a cry of pure fear. If he was already so overwhelmed, what was orgasm going to do to him? He knew he was crying, but couldn’t even begin to try to stop. His balls were tight against him, his whole body a taut string ready to snap. He found himself hyper-aware of the sounds he and Deadpool were making. The sheen of sweat covering his body, the salty tears on his face, the taste and smell of blood, leather, sex,  _ Deadpool. _

Deadpool’s teeth dug into his shoulder, a bright sharp sting against his already tattered nerves. He came with a scream, his orgasm ripping through him with more pain than pleasure. 

His brain went offline, with something that sounded like a dial tone and everything. He was only  _ mostly _ sure he didn’t pass out entirely. It was a possibility that couldn’t be ignored. When he started coming back to himself he was slumped weak and boneless against Deadpool. He didn’t want to even try to guess how much time had passed.

Deadpool was still rock hard against him, his hips occasionally twitching with restraint. He was saying something soft and soothing and Peter didn’t bother to try to make sense of it. He just let the warmth of the tone wash over him.

Slowly, and against his will, he found himself resurfacing. He blinked a few times as he took stock. Every muscle he had—and a few he hadn’t realized he had—were sore. His mouth was dry and his cum was still warm against his skin. 

“You back?” Deadpool asked softly. When Peter only grunted in reply, he laughed. “Take your time.”

Peter hummed and relaxed again, closing his eyes. He was happy to let his brain take it’s time booting back up while he was surrounded by the  _ sound taste smell feel  _ of Deadpool.

“You did so well, Petey,” Deadpool whispered into his hair. “So fucking incredible.”

“...’anks,” Peter croaked.

“You’re welcome.”

Peter tried to swallow. “‘ater?”

Deadpool kissed him behind the ear before very gently disentangling himself. He was careful as he lay Peter back on the bed. “Comfy?” Peter nodded and Deadpool seemed to be very intentionally making noise as he moved across the room to retrieve a couple of water bottles. 

By the time Deadpool got back, Peter had shoved himself up on one elbow. He was grateful when Deadpool helped him drink the water, though. He wasn’t all that confident that he wouldn’t fall back over if he sat up unassisted. 

Still, he was definitely more functional after the drink. He limply reached out and pawed at Deadpool’s groin, petting his erection through the suit.

Deadpool growled and covered Peter’s hand with his own, pressing them both harder against his dick, jerking against the touch.

“Easier if you take that off,” Peter pointed out.

He watched as recognition crossed Deadpool’s face. It took him a moment to pull himself away long away to get undressed. Peter smiled at the chance to watch Deadpool strip out of his second skin. He knew how vulnerable Deadpool felt without it, even when he wasn’t showing it. 

Briefly, he wondered if a blindfold would make things easier or harder for his boyfriend. He tucked that intrusive thought away for later.

Because Deadpool was standing in front of him, so hard that there was no way it wasn’t painful. His cock was rigid and curving upwards, his scars stretched tight, the head purple and leaking. Peter’s mouth  _ watered _ at the sight.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna let me get my hands on your cock?”

“Fuck yes,” Deadpool breathed, scrambling back onto the bed, kneeling next to Peter. 

Peter grinned and sat up so that he could run the flat of his tongue up Deadpool’s chest. He closed his eyes and savored the texture of his scars, the way his muscles jerked, Deadpool’s moan, even the faint taste of blood. He crawls up to his knees and licks and mouths over Deadpool’s pulse. 

Deadpool grabbed him, one hand in his hair, the other digging his nails into Peter’s side.

“Tell me what you want,” Peter prompted.

“I want…” Deadpool was looking at him like he was something precious. Something worth coveting. It sent Peter’s heart racing in the best possible way. “I want to bite you.” His thumb brushed against the bruise on Peter’s shoulder. “Wanna see you cry. Wanna hold you down and fuck you till you’re ruined for anyone but me.” Deadpool’s thumb moved up, swiping across his lips. “Fuck your throat so hard you can’t talk for  _ a week.” _

Peter shuddered and darted his tongue out to lick the pad of Deadpool’s thumb. “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah. Some of that can totally happen tonight.” Peter grinned and pushed himself forward so he could nip at Deadpool’s lip. “Anything involving my ass is gonna have to wait, though.”

The hold on his hair turned painful as Deadpool kissed him, licking into his mouth,  _ devouring _ him. It was possessive and left Peter feeling claimed. Peter returned the kiss and let Deadpool take what he wanted. And what he wanted was Peter. All of him.

Deadpool left a hot trail of hungry wet kisses down Peter’s face, his neck, until he reached his shoulder again and bit down. Peter keened and jerked as he sucked at the bruise. To make sure there was no chance of confusion, he cupped the back of Deadpool’s head so that he couldn’t pull away.

He panted as Deadpool’s other hand pulled him closer, his cock rutting against Peter’s abdomen.

Deadpool pressed one last kiss to his shoulder before finally pulling away. And  _ fuck, _ if Peter thought he’d looked hungry before, he looked  _ ravenous _ now. He was panting, hips still jerking forward, desperate for stimulation. Desperate to come.

Peter was more than a little breathless. And so very in love. He pulled down against the hand in his hair and it took a moment before Deadpool followed his descent.

“Spidey…” 

Peter settled himself down on the bed so that he was level with Deadpool’s cock. His tongue darted out, tasting precum. He hummed appreciatively, looking back up to Deadpool’s face. Deadpool was watching him, lips parted. “Thought you wanted to fuck my throat?” Peter teased.

“Open your mouth,” Deadpool ordered.

With a quick grin, Peter did as he was told. He tucked his lips over his teeth and welcomed the heat and  _ taste touch feel _ of Wade’s cock as it slid into his mouth.

Deadpool hadn’t let go of his hair, and Peter didn’t expect that he would anytime soon. He moaned as Peter closed his lips around him and sucked.

Peter liked to think he was getting pretty decent at this. Sure, he still had plenty to learn, but he was getting there. It helped that practice was so much fun. Especially when Wade would coach him through it, moving Peter just how he wanted with nothing but his voice.

Deadpool was talking, but it was far from coaching. Filthy praise and dark promises spilled from his mouth instead. When he pulled Peter’s head forward, Peter moaned around his cock. They moved, more and more of Deadpool’s cock sinking into him until he could feel it brush the back of his throat. 

He swallowed around the urge to gag and Deadpool wheezed, interrupting his own babbling. “Fuckin’ Christ, Baby Boy. Look at you.”

Peter focused on breathing through his nose, but still closed his eyes in pleasure at the words. He tried to imagine what he looked like, his lips stretched around Deadpool, his  _ submission. _

“Tap twice if you need to stop.”

He shifted forward, pulling Deadpool’s cock further into this throat, showing appreciation for his concern.

Suddenly both of Deadpool’s hands were holding his head. Peter was struck by how big his hands were, how they dwarfed his face in comparison. He moaned in the back of his throat, making Deadpool hiss.

Then Deadpool pulled back and thrust back in. Slowly at first, letting Peter acclimate to the feeling of being held still and  _ used. _

Peter did his best to work his tongue against the underside of Deadpool’s cock and was rewarded with a particularly sharp thrust that pushed Deadpool down into his throat.

He whimpered at the sudden intrusion, shivering as he desperately tried to figure out how to handle it.

“Shh,” Deadpool gently hushed him, stroking through his hair. “Relax, Sweetheart. Don’t wanna hurt ya’.”

Peter tried. It was easier when Deadpool pulled back a little, letting him breathe unimpeded. Deadpool was praising him again, telling him how  _ good _ he was being, how wonderful. How much he was loved. 

Once he was confident he wasn’t going to choke—or puke—he ran his tongue around the head of Deadpool’s dick again. 

Deadpool wasn’t as gentle now, but he was slower to push so deep. When he did breach Peter’s throat again, Peter was better able to relax around the stretch of the cock down his throat.

Tears were prickling in his eyes and Deadpool brushed one away with his thumb. “Shit, you’re beautiful like this.” His hand felt along Peter’s neck, feeling the way his cock forced Peter’s body to accommodate him. “Stretched around my cock, your throat bulging with it. You’re stuffed so full right now, aren’t you?”

Peter let out what he hoped was an affirmative sound.

Deadpool groaned and snapped his hips forward, sinking fully into Peter’s mouth. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Peter loved the feeling of Deadpool using him to chase his orgasm. Of being the source of so much pleasure for his boyfriend. Distantly he wondered if he might not be able to come just from this in the right circumstances.

When Deadpool mostly stilled—he was still twitching and grinding against Peter’s mouth as he came—Peter wrapped his arms around Deadpool’s legs in a facsimile of a hug.

Deadpool pulled out slowly, still supporting Peter’s head. Peter gasped and took several deep breaths in through his mouth.

“You ok?” Deadpool asked.

Peter nodded, feeling a bit dazed. Deadpool dragged him up enough to kiss him. It was almost sweet how much care he put into it as he tasted himself in Peter’s mouth. Peter wanted to return the kiss, but his coordination felt shot.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Peter blushed at how  _ wrecked _ his voice sounded. 

Deadpool looked delighted. “More water?”

He nodded again. When Deadpool returned, Peter was content to just let him hold the bottle to his mouth, controlling how much and how quickly Peter drank.

“Feeling better?”

Peter blinked and shuffled closer, resting his head against Deadpool’s chest. “Never felt bad.”

With minimal assistance from Peter, Deadpool laid them both down, holding Peter close to him. “Is it bad if I want you to sound like that for  _ at least _ another day or two?”

Forgoing speech, Peter raised his hand to sign, “No.”

“Kinda feels like I’m dreaming,” Deadpool mused. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Peter blinked, annoyed at himself for not knowing the sign for what he wanted to say. “Could’a,” he rasped.

Deadpool hummed. “Can we do it again? Not today, obviously, but… sometime?”

Peter gave him a thumbs up. Deadpool held him all the closer, wrapping himself around Peter. He was humming a song that Peter couldn’t place as they drifted off.

~~~

An hour or so later, Peter woke up. He’d moved away from Wade in his sleep and was quick to snuggle back up against him. (At least he was pretty sure he was Wade since his Senses had finally chilled out.)

Wade’s arm around him tightened and he nuzzled against Peter’s head.

“You awake?” Peter asked, his voice scratching but sounding significantly better.

“Mm. Kinda. You ok?”

“Yeah. Wishing I’d showered before falling asleep though.”

Wade giggled, but still sounded apologetic as he said, “Sorry. I should have helped clean you up.”

“Would’a been nice, yeah.”

He let out a squeak as Wade rolled them so that Peter was draped across him. “We can go shower now?”

“Yes, please.”

Wade climbed off the bed, holding Peter in a bridal carry. Peter nestled into Wade’s hold and peppered kisses against his neck, shoulder, and face. Pretty much just where he could reach.

The shower was small enough that having the two of them standing there was cramped and kind of uncomfortable. But that just led to them giggling as they tried to maneuver around each other. Peter let Wade wash him—as well as they could manage—including gently wiping the dried cum off of him.

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Sweetie.”

Peter was very careful to make his next comment sound as offhand as possible. “It’d be less frustrating if it was at least  _ your _ cum.”

Wade let out a strangled noise at that. “God, don’t tempt me.”

“Why not?” Peter smiled and kissed him. “We can do that sometime if you want.” 

“We can… What, really?” 

Peter winced as the next pass of the washcloth pulled at the hair on his stomach. “Sure. I mean, you said you wanted to shave me, right? So… maybe after that. Since getting cum out of hair really sucks.” Then, as an afterthought, “And some of Thor’s ale should make an appearance.”

Wade shook with his suppressed laughter. “Wine you, dine you, then I get to have my wicked way with you.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

He let out a pleased sound as Wade moved to wash his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Peter?”

Peter brushed excess water away from his eyes so he could look up at Wade’s use of his name. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I was really rough with you earlier.”

“I liked it,” Peter assured him.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. It was fun. And I like seeing you take what you want. I like  _ feeling _ it.”

Wade relaxed noticeably.

“What about you? Are  _ you _ ok?”

“Yeah. I… It was great. Really great.”

Peter preened.

“Did you get what you wanted? With the whole  _ making you come _ thing?”

He nodded. “It was…” He paused, debating how to explain it. “It was overwhelming. But in a good way?” He took a moment to focus on rubbing soap over Wade’s arms and chest. “It was scary,” he explained carefully. “But I knew you were there, and that you were keeping me safe.”

Wade frowned at that, though. “But I was also the one making you feel that way.”

“Only because I asked you to. I was never scared  _ of you, _ you weren’t ever going to do something I didn’t ask for.”

He could practically feel the way Wade relaxed at that. “Do you want to do it again someday?”

Peter had to think about that for a moment. It  _ had _ been hard to go through. Stressful and painful and frightening. He’d felt  _ so much _ and he still wasn’t sure how his body had withstood it. “I think so, yeah,” he decided. “Probably not, like… Often. But I want to do it again. If you do?”

Wade looked deep in thought as they finished rinsing off. Peter left him to his thoughts as they stepped out of the shower, dried off, and returned to the bed. He didn’t want to push, but he wanted Wade to answer him. Even if the answer was that Wade didn’t want to do it again, that would be fine.

Finally, just before the silence drove Peter to anxiety, Wade spoke. “I really enjoyed it too.”

He let out a relieved sigh and resisted the urge to snap at Wade for dragging that out. “Good.”

“But, I…”

Peter’s brows furrowed as the seeds of self-loathing planted themselves behind Wade’s eyes.

“I know I didn’t do anything you didn’t want.”

“That’s a good start.”

“But I  _ really _ enjoyed it.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“I made you cry.”

“And?”

“And! I liked it. I liked making you cry. It felt like I had so much control over you and—”

“Does it help knowing that’s the same kind of thing I liked about it too?” Peter cut him off. “Plus, like, the couple of times I’ve been, uh. Domming, I guess? Does what we’ve been doing even count as that?”

Wade’s mouth twitched into a brief smile. “If you want it to count.”

“Heh, ok. So, yeah, you’re describing the same thing I enjoy about it. I liked watching you do the stuff I asked you to do. And I like that I can say just the right thing and watch you fold and give yourself over to me. You trust me. To make you feel good, and to still be there when it’s over.”

He reached over and laid his hand over Wade’s. “On the flip side, I like trusting you. I can relax and know you’ve got me. What we do might be scary, or hurt a little or something, but I know you’re keeping me safe. And that you’re enjoying what we’re doing.”

Wade actually looked convinced by that, and Peter pulled him into a hug. “I don’t mind crying if it’s for you,” he whispered into Wade’s ear. Wade hugged him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This grew a 3rd chapter, whoops.
> 
> Me: Ok, time to write some aftercare.  
> The Bois: Time to plan a new scene, you mean.  
> Me: *facepalm*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like a tumor. It didn't _exist_ in my rough draft. The entire first scene? Two sentences of the rough draft. Maybe a few paragraphs of the rough draft still exist in the second scene. They were supposed to have a nice conversation, but this wasn't the planned topic. *sigh*
> 
> I say as if I'm actually complaining, lol.
> 
> Unbeta'd, edited via grammarly.

_ You've got me feeling like an animal _ _   
_ _ Beat down and feeling paralyzed _ _   
_ _ You've got me feeling like I have no other hand to hold _ _   
_ _ In this assisted suicide _ _   
_ —Seether,  _ Let You Down  _

On the drive home, they discussed their plans. The ways that Peter could tie Wade up, their options for positions, the things that Wade was most likely to be comfortable being told or called. Wade admitting that he really liked it when Peter had called him a “slut” was enough to distract Peter from unease that traveling through the open country was causing him. (The mountains and tall trees were great, and he wasn’t about to _admit_ that the lack of tall buildings was starting to get to him.)

They knew they couldn’t put their plans into action the moment they got home. So instead Peter shoved Wade against the door, slamming it closed, and sank to his knees, deciding to suck him off then and there. 

A small whine escaped the back of his throat when he realized he couldn't work Wade's cock into his throat—partially because it was still a little sore from the night before, and partially because he couldn't figure out how to relax his gag reflex enough to swallow him down.

"Fucking _shit,_ Petey," Wade groaned, digging his fingers into Peter's hair. He didn't pull Peter forward though, so Peter dug his fingers into the meat of Wade's ass and tugged him closer. Not enough to force him forward, but hopefully enough to get across what he _wanted._

“You liked deepthroating that much, huh?” Wade pulled Peter back by the hair until he was forced off of his cock. “How about you ask for it, then, hmm?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked up at Wade, not bothering to close his mouth. 

“C’mon, Baby Boy,” Wade purred, the sole of his boot pressing between Peter’s legs.

“Fuck! Wade,” Peter moaned, unconsciously jerking his hips against the pressure. And what the hell, was he really going to get off on _that?_ He did his best to take a grounding breath. “Please let me suck your cock, Wade,” he said.

“You were already doing that, Petey. Tell me what you _really_ want.”

“I…” Peter felt his face heat up in shame as well as arousal. And damn, what a fucking mix of feelings that was. “You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Well, I can’t exactly read your mind.”

He tried to glare at his boyfriend, but he knew it wasn’t as effective as he’d have liked. “I want to deepthroat you.”

Wade looked more amused than turned on at that. “Yeah? And?”

“And? And what?” Peter complained.

The fingers in his hair pulled tighter until Peter whimpered. “And what do you need from me for that to happen, Cutie-pie?”

 _Oh._ Peter noted to try to get his revenge for this later. “And I don’t know how to do that on my own. I need you to teach me, or—or do it for me.” He swallowed. “Please.”

 _There._ That was the sort of face he wanted Wade to wear when they were doing things like this. “Ok, Sweetheart.” Wade pulled his foot away from Peter’s dick. “There are other positions that’ll be easier for you if you’re not married to doing it on your knees.”

“Uh. Other positions are good.” 

Wade nodded and released his hair. He helped Peter stand up and pulled him into the bedroom. Peter really hadn’t planned for anything more than a spontaneous blowjob, but he wasn’t about to complain about the way this was going instead.

"First, you should take your shirt off."

Peter grabbed the hem of his shirt before pausing. "How is that going to help?"

"It'll help," Wade started, pushing into Peter's personal space, "because I'm gonna make a mess out of you."

 _"Oh."_ Peter nodded and pulled his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor.

“Good boy,” Wade purred, “now lay down with your head off the bed.”

Once he’d laid down, Wade helped him reposition. “The idea is to have a straight line from your mouth to your stomach,” he explained as he shifted Peter’s head. 

“Make sense,” Peter replied, his voice going quiet.

“You alright, Petey?”

“Yeah. Just…” He paused. He wasn’t nervous exactly. The exact opposite, in fact. “I like when you’re teaching me how to do things,” he offered. “It feels… Good. Safe.”

Wade’s fingernails scratched softly at the back of his head where he was holding him up. “I’m so glad I make you feel that way.” Two fingers from his other hand slid easily into Peter’s mouth. “How’s that feel?”

 _“Wei-a,”_ Peter tried around the fingers. 

“Bad weird?”

_“Mo.”_

“Ready for my cock?”

_“‘Ef.”_

Wade snorted and pulled his fingers free. “Sorry, try that last one again.”

Peter huffed at him. “Yes, I’m ready for your cock.” 

“Thank you,” Wade stepped closer and tapped the head of his cock against Peter’s lips. 

“Really?” Peter complained before opening his mouth and letting Wade slide inside him. This position was slightly more disorienting than he’d expected it to be, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

“Relax, Baby Boy. Let me do the work, ok? I’ve got ya’.”

Peter hummed and let his hands fall to his sides. Wade was slow as he rocked himself further into Peter’s mouth. Even with the new position, Peter felt himself start to gag when Wade's cock brushed the back of his tongue.

“Shh, I know, Petey, I know. Just try to breathe through it, ok? It might take some practice before we can do this, and that’s ok.”

He wanted to point out that they’d managed it _just fine_ the night before. He briefly wondered what was different, but that train of thought was cut off when he felt himself choke. Peter dug his fingers into the bedding under him, more frustrated than anything else. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he was glad that Wade couldn’t see his face. 

With an internal curse, Peter reached up and tapped Wade’s stomach.

Wade pulled out without a second’s hesitation. “You did so well, Baby,” he soothed immediately.

“Wanna try again,” Peter told him.

“Hey, it’s ok—”

“No, I know. Just… one more try, ok? Please?” 

“You know I can’t say no to those puppy eyes of yours,” Wade murmured, wiping a stray line of saliva from Peter’s cheek. 

Peter shifted again and took several deep breaths. Then he closed his eyes and just tried to relax as much of his body as he could. He didn’t need to do anything. Wade would take care of him. “Ok,” he breathed before opening his mouth again.

Wade groaned softly, like he was trying to hold it in, as he pushed back into Peter’s mouth. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you feel so good. So wet and hot and _mine.”_

This time when Wade’s cock passed the back of his tongue Peter didn’t gag. He could feel his body think about it, but he focused on staying relaxed and opened his mouth a bit wider. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so well. Just stay relaxed, just like that.” Wade swore as he thrust gently into Peter’s throat. He was so much gentler than he’d been the night before and Peter couldn’t decide which he liked better. He was glad he didn’t have to choose. 

Peter was delighted to find himself getting harder as Wade used his throat. He moaned around Wade’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, you like that, Petey?” Wade asked, his next thrust sharper than the last.

Since he couldn’t say anything Peter fumbled with his jeans, desperate to get his hand on his dick. His other hand kept clenching the sheets, _needing_ something to ground him.

“Oh, God, yes. Let me see how you like to touch yourself. Don’t be shy, Baby, I wanna see you come with my cock down your throat.”

Peter whimpered and did his best to spread his precum as he stroked himself, but his strokes were still too dry and uncomfortable. Wishing he could see Wade’s face he held his hand up as well as he could.

Thankfully Wade didn’t have any trouble seeing what he needed. He took hold of Peter’s wrist and shifted so he could run his tongue over Peter’s palm and fingers. It felt positively _obscene_ when Wade sucked Peter’s fingers into his mouth, one by one, echoing the rhythm of his hips. He didn’t let go of Peter’s wrist until his hand was all but dripping. If Peter had been even slightly less horny it probably would have grossed him out.

Instead, he just groaned around Wade again as he jerked off into his slick hand. 

“Good boy,” Wade panted above him. “Shit, I’m getting close.” Peter did his best to swallow at the head of Wade’s cock in between taking breaths. “Oh, _fuck._ Keep that up and I won’t be able to hold back.”

Peter just hummed, perfectly fine with that.

Fingers tugged at his hair painfully and Peter keened. “You’re coming first, Petey,” Wade told him, the slightest hint of a threat darkening his tone. “You won’t like it if I don’t get what I want.”

Peter _whined,_ Wade’s tone shooting arousal straight through his core. He tightened his grip around his dick and bucked his hips up against his hand, desperate to give Wade what he wanted. He was too far gone to even be embarrassed by the pathetic sounds Wade was pulling out of him. 

He was close. He was _so close._ But he needed something, and he didn’t know what it could possibly be. Tears escaped and trailed down to his forehead. His throat spasmed around Wade’s cock as he lost the rhythm of his breaths. 

Wade closed his hand over Peter’s throat and Peter went silent as he came, his cries trapped in his chest. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Wade chanted rapidly, pulling himself out of Peter’s mouth. Peter barely had time to realize he needed to close his eyes before Wade was stripping his cock and pulsing cum over Peter’s face, some of it landing in his still open mouth.

Peter swallowed what landed in his mouth before licking away what he could reach with his tongue.

With a loud _thump,_ Wade’s knees hit the floor beside him, and he started covering Peter’s face with kisses—and licking off what Peter couldn’t reach himself. 

“That’s so gross,” Peter giggled, grinning like an idiot. He felt warm and soft in a way that sex didn't usually cause. 

“You love it,” Wade kissed him again before crawling up the bed.

“Oh God, are you just gonna lick me clean?” Peter shuffled along the bed so that his head wasn’t hanging off the side.

“Well,” Wade said, a warm smile lighting up his face. “You complained last night when I didn’t clean you up.”

Any new complaints died on Peter’s lips when Wade started licking his cum from his abdomen and down to his dick. He tensed and clenched his eyes closed. Even Wade’s gentle licks felt like agony against his oversensitive skin. As soon as he stopped the warm floaty sensation returned.

“You ok?” Wade asked, pressing a kiss beside Peter’s navel.

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed, knowing he needed to be more honest than that. “That uh. Hurt a little.”

Wade was instantly alert, taking in a sharp breath. “Shit, Petey—”

“No, no, just right now. When you, uh, licked me. Er. My dick.” He watched Wade relax and then smile as he fought his embarrassment. “It’s sensitive.”

“I’m sorry,” Wade apologized lightly, still amused. “What about the rest?”

“My throat’s a little sore, I guess? But, you know. Worth it.” He couldn't keep the smile off his face. 

Wade crawled up and kissed him again. “Your voice isn’t all messed up this time.”

“Nope,” Peter popped. “Guess you’ll have to try harder next time.”

His boyfriend growled playfully before draping himself over Peter. Peter let out a soft, “Oof,” but otherwise just settled under Wade’s weight. 

“Hey, Wade,” he said after several minutes passed quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

Wade chuckled against him. “Love you too.”

* * *

The next day when Peter swung home from The Tower, he yanked open the window with more force than was necessary. He cringed, waiting to see if any damage would result from his overexcited behavior. The frame shook and there was a grinding noise that _probably_ wasn’t great, but nothing else happened.

“Phew,” he landed lightly in his bedroom and was much more careful about pulling the window closed. He pulled his mask from his head and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to convince it to stop laying flat against his head. 

“Well, there’s one point for being bald,” Wade said as he walked into the living room.

“Shut up,” he grumped, giving up on his hair. “I brought you a present and everything, and _this_ is how I’m greeted.” 

“Oooh!” Wade perked up, setting the Switch to the side and clapping his hands. “What’d you get me?”

With a grin, Peter pulled the tiny vial of bright blue web fluid from a hidden pouch in his suit, “This!”

Wade walked across the room to see what Peter was holding. “What is it?”

“New webs. For, you know. Kinky stuff.”

“It’s really small.”

Peter laughed and pulled one of his gloves off so he could take off his web shooter. “Yeah, it expands a lot.” Wade watched closely as he popped open the compartment that housed his web fluid. His current vial was barely a quarter empty which was always good information to have.

“So, unlike my normal webs, this stuff is _super_ breakable. Er, comparatively. It shouldn’t break too easily. It also doesn’t stretch as much. Which makes it easier to break free from, and it should keep it from tightening if you pull against it. It’s also less sticky, because,” he paused, chuckling at the mental image, “sticky bondage just seemed like a huge mess.”

Wade didn’t chuckle with him. Instead, he was just staring at his web shooter, his lips slightly parted.

“Wade? You ok?”

“You changed all that?”

“Er. Yeah? If you don’t like it, I can go back to the drawing board, try to figure out something else. What’s the—”

“For me?” He whispered.

“For… Oh.” Peter smiled. “Well, for _us,_ I guess. But yeah, you said you wanted me to web you, and I couldn’t very well use my normal webs for that. You need to be able to get free if anything happens. Plus, they might have messed with your skin and—”

Wade pressed a finger against Peter’s lips and Peter realized how overwhelmed he looked. 

“Babe?”

“Sorry, I just.” He swallowed. “I didn’t even know you were working on this. _How long_ have you been working on this?”

“Uh, since you mentioned it back when we did that quiz. Not _constantly_ since then, but on and off.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

Peter smiled, unsure of how to respond. He’d just done what needed to be done if they wanted to play with webbing. It didn’t really feel like something that deserved gratitude. And certainly not the amount that dripped from Wade’s words. “It wasn’t a big deal, but… Yeah. You’re welcome.” 

Before he could start to explain that he wasn’t certain it was completely done, Wade pulled him into a kiss, pinning him to the spot as he _devoured_ Peter.

He eventually had to pull back, grinning at the joy bubbling in his chest. “I do have to know for sure it works right, though.”

“Of course,” Wade agreed, as though he hadn’t been willing to just trust Peter’s judgement on it.

“Cool. We just need to run a quick test or two—” Wade’s expression shifted, just for a second. Peter immediately kicked himself for his phrasing. He swapped out the new vial and pocketed the other. “Here,” he held the shooter out for Wade to take.

“What?” Wade blinked.

“We’re gonna make sure you can break the web and all that. So, here,” he gestured the shooter towards him again.

It took another few seconds before Wade gingerly took it from his hand. “You’re gonna let me use it?”

“It’d be pretty hard to web myself, so, yeah. You get the honors.” He stepped closer and helped Wade adjust the band so that it closed comfortably around his wrist. “How’s that? Not too tight?” Wade just shook his head, his eyes not leaving his wrist.

“Spidey.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure?” Wade looked up, worried. “What if I break it?”

Peter snorted. “You’re not gonna break it, don’t worry.”

“I could!”

“Not without _trying_ you couldn’t. I promise. I’ve used it to deflect hits before—which it is definitely not built for, so don’t do _that._ I’d tell you if it was fragile.”

Finally, Wade nodded and relaxed.

“Alright, so you’re gonna shoot a strand between my hands,” Peter took off his other glove and held his hands up. “Remember when I showed you how it worked?”

“Yeah.” Wade tilted his wrist a few times until he got the motion right and the tab extended. “So, how do I…?”

“You just gotta be quick,” Peter explained. “Aim it at one hand,” he wiggled his right hand, “and then at the other. Just one burst of the web though.”

Wade practiced the motion several times before triggering the extruder. He was _focused_ in a way that Peter usually only saw in Deadpool. But this was a weapon, Peter realized with a start. And why had he ever thought of his web-shooters like that before? To him, they were just tools. Of course, he’d seen many a “tool” become a weapon in Deadpool’s hands, so this probably shouldn’t have surprised him. 

When Wade finally shot the web it wasn’t _quite_ perfect. It hit his right hand just fine, but the trail to his left ended at his left shoulder instead. Wade winced. “Shit, sorry.”

“For what?” Peter asked, gathering the other side in his left hand so the line of web stretched between his hands. “That was amazing, Wade.”

“I missed.”

“So? It’s not like you’ve ever used something like this before. That was infinitely better than my first attempt. High school windows? _Super breakable.”_ That got Wade to laugh. “Anyway, c’mon,” he held his hands out, “let’s make sure you can pull it apart.”

It took _a little_ more effort than Peter had intended, but Wade was able to break apart the webbing. And if Peter got a bit of a show from Wade’s powerful arms and chest? Well, that was just a happy accident.

“Feel ok?” He asked as Wade played with a piece of the web. “Not a bad texture or anything?”

“Feels fine. Kind of soft, actually.”

“Good!” Peter chirped. “I was hoping it would be.” He grinned and tried to will down his nervous energy. “So, I was thinking.”

“You’re always thinking, that’s not new.”

“Rude, but true,” Peter laughed. “No, um. Before, when we talked about me webbing you, you said you wanted me to tie your arms behind your back.”

“Uh, sure, that sounds right.”

“Ok, so. I’ve been, you know, imagining it and,” he ignored the leer Wade turned his way, “If I’m gonna be f-fucking you—” Wade interrupted him with a coo. “Oh, shut up.”

“It was cute.”

Peter groaned. “I was _trying_ to say that I wanted to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah. We can do that.”

“Right, but tying your hands behind your back would make that really uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

Wade shrugged. “Depends on the position. Like, I could be on my side and… Well, that might pull on my shoulder after a bit. Hmm.”

“I had an alternate suggestion.”

“Oh?”

Peter took a deep breath and tried to channel every moment he’d managed to _command_ Wade. “You promised you’d keep your hands up above your head for me, didn’t you?”

He watched Wade’s expression as pure _want_ covered his face. Wade groaned and took a very intentional set back, away from Peter. “You have no idea how much it pains me to say that we _cannot_ do this tonight.”

“Oh.” Peter bit back a frown, refusing to let _rejection_ settle anywhere in him. “Why not?”

Wade gave him an apologetic but knowing smile. “Because you, my horny little munchkin, need a few days to decompress.”

That did a perfect job of clearing any hint of rejection. “I’m not sure what part of that sentence I’m the most offended by,” he huffed. “Decompress from what?”

“Are you forgetting the last two days where I dommed the shit out of you?”

“What? I mean, at the hotel, sure. But yesterday wasn’t…” He paused, considering. Wade waited patiently while he remembered how fuzzy and giddy he’d felt right after sex. “Ok, I guess, but I’m _fine._ I don’t need to decompress.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how you feel tomorrow,” Wade said, raising a brow. “Besides, _I_ need to decompress, too. You’re not the only one that got a big ol’ dose of fun chemicals.”

“Oh, that’s…” He ran his now web-free hand through his hair. “I guess I didn’t realize that that, uh. That that was a thing.”

“The drop?”

“Er, well, that too. But I meant the uh, extra chemical stuff to begin with.”

Wade grinned. “Why’d you think we were doing it?”

“Because it’s fun?”

“There’s that,” Wade agreed. Then his smile shifted and he turned more serious. “Did you really not know about that?”

Something unpleasant sparked in the back of Peter’s mind that told him he was in trouble. He tried to ignore it. “I mean, that makes sense. I knew that sometimes when we did the sub/dom stuff that I felt different afterwards. Kind of… out of it? I guess? But in a good way!” He hastened to add.

With a soft sigh, Wade wadded up the rest of the webbing he’d been playing with and set it down on the coffee table. “C’mere,” he opened his arms. As soon as Peter stepped up to him, he wrapped him up in a hug. “I’m sorry, Petey,” Wade whispered, kissing his temple.

Peter turned his head to catch another kiss. “Why?”

“For just _assuming_ you know this stuff. Or that you’d read up on it or something.” Wade pressed their foreheads together. “I just keep fucking this up.”

“Hey, no,” Peter returned the hug. “Wade, I’m an adult. And yeah, I should have done some research, apparently, but it’s not your job to make sure I know this stuff.”

“Except that, yeah, it is, Peter.” Peter took a breath to argue but Wade continued. _“Not_ because I’m older. Or, not entirely because of that.”

Peter shifted back enough to look at Wade. “Then why?”

“Because this is a partnership. Anything new we’re doing, we both need to be informed. Make sure we’re both on the same page. _Especially_ when it comes to any consequences we might run into.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t exactly argue with that.”

“Sure can’t.”

“Can we sit down and talk about it, then?”

“Whatever you want, Baby Boy,” Wade kissed him again before dragging Peter over to the couch and down onto his lap. 

Peter huffed and had to squirm to reposition himself. They were too close in height to make this a comfortable position without some effort.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“You mentioned drop?”

“Oof,” Wade grunted, letting his head fall back against the couch. “See, this part is something we should have talked about _before_ we did anything.” Peter listened to the way Wade’s heart raced beneath his ribs.

“Is it just all the fun brain stuff, like… wearing off?”

“Basically. And, you’re the chemistry nerd, so I’m sure any more detailed explanation I try to give will just offend you.”

Peter snorted. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“The important part is that sub drop can mess with you. Everything from being tired, depressed, irritable, achy. I usually get all shaky a few hours after. And my mental state sometimes goes to a… not great place. Extra not great.”

“How so?” Peter asked gently.

“It’s like… I get angry at myself? Which isn’t all that rare, I know. But it’s more like I’m angry for letting myself be vulnerable, or for trusting my dom.”

“Oh,” Peter’s breath caught, and his fingers bunched up Wade’s shirt. “That sounds terrible. Have… Have I done anything to make you feel that way?”

Wade was quiet, but his heart sped up, which was answer enough.

_“Wade.”_

“Just a little,” he finally admitted. “The phone sex messed me up a little. But—it wasn’t _that_ bad. I got over it pretty fast.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“No point. I was hundreds of miles away, there wasn’t anything you could have done. I’d have just upset you for no reason.”

Peter frowned. “Well, now I’m upset because you didn’t tell me that I did something that hurt you.” He sighed. “I mean, I knew I’d hurt you, but not the extent. If it happens again, you’ll tell me, ok?”

“It’s not something that’s your fault, Peter—”

“I don’t care. If I was feeling that way, you’d want to know, wouldn’t you? Even if you couldn’t do anything to help me.”

“Of course.”

“There you go.” Peter kissed his cheek. “Is that an… every time kind of thing? I don’t remember feeling weird after we did the knife stuff.”

“That was fun,” Wade hummed. “Can we do that again?”

“Yes, now focus.”

“I am focused. Some people never feel it, or only feel it rarely. Some people get it _every time,_ regardless of the intensity of the scene.”

“And you?”

Wade made a noncommittal sound. “I dunno. It’s been a while since I did anything like this regularly. It’s never been an “always” thing for me, I don’t think.”

Peter bit his lip. He didn’t want to ask, but he was pretty sure he needed to know: “Have you done this with anyone besides me since Weapon X?”

“Not… I don’t think so. If I have, I don’t remember it.”

“Then it _might_ be an “always” thing for you now?”

A long silence followed his question. He rolled the cotton of Wade’s shirt between his fingers and fought the urge to prompt him to say something.

“It’s not impossible.”

He chewed at his lip as he processed that new information. They were _planning_ on doing something that could lead to Wade feeling like that. “We don’t have to do anything where you’re the sub.”

“What?” Wade jerked as if Peter had yelled. “No, Sweetie, that’s _not_ what I wanted you to take away from this.”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad, though.”

“It—Yeah, it sucks, but there are things we can do to mitigate it. For both of us. We can have all the fun kinky sex—or not-sex, as the case might be—without the fallout being unbearable.”

“You sure?”

“Super sure. Think of it as an excuse for lots of cuddles and hydration and eating tasty things and whatever else makes us feel safe and happy.”

“And telling each other if we don’t feel good.”

“That part too, yeah.”

Peter shuffled until he was straddling Wade’s lap. “So, how long do we have to wait until you’ll be comfortable knowing that I’m not gonna fall apart?”

“At least another day or two.”

He pouted. “Lame.”

Wade reached up, running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I know. But I’m not sure if top drop and sub drop can hit someone at the same time, and I really don’t want to test that on either of us.”

“Top drop? Is that just the same as sub drop but, like, from the other side?”

“Not quite,” Wade shook his head. “And I’m not _super_ familiar with top drop, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.”

“Standard operating procedure. Got it.”

“Brat,” Wade poked his nose. “Serious time again, Petey. Topping, domming, whatever you want to call it in this context, it takes a lot of energy and a lot of focus. Even if everything goes _right,_ it can leave you pretty winded. Some people are fine, some people need a recovery period, too.”

“Oh. Shit, right, you said you needed to decompress too, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Do you need cuddles and comfort food?”

Wade grinned and pulled him down for a kiss. “I will never say no to either of those, but I’m ok right now.”

“No top drop for you?”

“I’m just already over the worst of it.”

Peter tensed, unconsciously bunching up Wade’s shirt under his fingers again. “When?” If it was anything like how Wade had described sub drop, how had Peter not _noticed_ anything?

“Hey, calm down,” Wade’s hand curled around the back of his neck. “I just told you I’m alright. You were there with me, Petey, and you helped me through it.”

“I did?”

“Mmhmm. The other day when I was having a hard time hearing you tell me you enjoyed everything we did through my guilt?”

The hotel was hardly the first time Peter had seen Wade that way. He wouldn’t say that it happened _often_ after sex, but certainly enough times that Peter was familiar with the sort of mood he’d been in that night. “That’s what that was?”

“Yeah.”

“But the cuddles and reassurances helped?”

“They did.”

“Good.” Peter leaned down to kiss Wade again, just a brief brush of their lips. Wade tried to deepen the kiss, but Peter just pulled back a little, teasingly. He repeated this several times until Wade let out a soft whine.

“Something wrong?” He asked against Wade’s lips.

“Why?” Wade complained.

“Because I love you and our conversation was getting super heavy and I wanted to lighten the mood.”

“By tormenting me?”

Peter laughed. “Babe, you have an _entire_ Spider-Man in your lap. I’m shocked that the kissing is what makes you feel 'tormented.'”

Wade gasped, his hands immediately going down to grope Peter’s ass. “You distracted me! I could have been feeling up Spidey this whole time.”

“You _constantly_ feel up, Spidey.”

“Not when you’re wearing your suit, I don’t.”

“You definitely do.”

“Not constantly.”

“Want me to go grab my mask?” Peter asked, rolling his hips down against Wade’s.

The strangled sound that Wade made was totally worth it. “You—I—We can’t—Not—”

“Keep going and you might manage a whole sentence before dinner.”

In retaliation, Wade pinched his thigh, and Peter squeaked and jerked, only to collapse in a fit of giggles. He pressed his face against Wade’s neck.

“One, we’re not having sex. I don’t trust either of us.”

“Probably for the best. I’ve been a _terrible_ influence on you.”

“Two,” Wade continued, not dignifying that with a reply, “how serious are you?”

“Completely serious. You used to try to _impress_ The Avengers.”

Wade tackled him down to the floor, pinning him to the floor and tickling him mercilessly.

“Gah! Wade!” Peter squirmed and giggled, half-heartedly trying to bat Wade’s hands away. “Wh-what did you mean, then?”

“The mask,” the tickle assault paused long enough to give Peter a chance to answer.

“What? You wanna fuck _Spider-Man?”_

“I’m going to spare us both the trauma and _not_ admit how long I’ve jerked off to fucking Spider-Man.”

Peter relaxed against the floor and stretched. “I have _no idea_ how we’d manage anything more than me blowing you. That suit was _not_ designed with bathroom breaks in mind.”

“That’s not ideal.”

“Nope.”

“Well, hey. Two-fer.” Wade’s grin was positively devious. “We both already know you like it when I cut away your clothes.”

His breath caught at the mental image. Fuck, that would be so much more dangerous than destroying a pair of loose shorts. “Keep talking.”

Wade’s laughter rumbled from his chest and into Peter's. “You’ll just need to hold _extra still,_ and I’m sure I can free your personal bits with no lasting damage. Bonus, then you’ll _need_ to do something about the suit.”

Peter swore. “Ok, we’re _not_ going to do that. Maybe… maybe something similar, but I’m not going to let you destroy my suit for _sex.”_

“Spoilsport.”

“I promise to keep that fantasy of yours in mind, though.”

Wade let out a happy squeal at his promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is over 8k words because I _refused_ to split it into two chapters.

_ So say something beautiful _ _   
_ _ Say what you're keeping inside _ _   
_ _ This anticipation _ _   
_ _ I will only let you down _ _   
_ —Seether,  _ Let You Down _

Peter was in the middle of making grilled cheese sandwiches when his usually S-Class coordination failed him. The whole day he’d felt slower, like his brain had been dunked into caramel. At least the sandwich wasn’t likely to fall apart just because he messed up flipping it three times in a row. Unlike his toothbrush after dropping it into the toilet.

“The hell is wrong with me?” He groaned. “This isn’t even hard! Small children can flip a damned sandwich!”

“Okie-dokie Sweetheart,” Wade  _ appeared _ next to him and gently took the spatula from his hands to flip the sandwich himself. Peter couldn’t help the distressed noise that broke free at seeing the burnt bread. “Go sit down, I got this.”

And now Wade had managed to  _ sneak up on him! _ He huffed as he collapsed in a dining chair. 

“Oh my God,” he whined. “Is this what you were talking about? Please tell me this is subdrop or something and that I’m not just losing my mind.” 

“I did warn you.”

_ “After the fact, _ you mean.”

Wade nodded towards him. “Yeah, that was… I’m sorry, Pete. Does knowing it’ll pass help?”

“Not really.” He pillowed his head against his crossed arms and glared in Wade’s general direction. “My brain’s too slow,” he muttered. “I’m useless like this.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Wade said as he brought Peter a non-burnt sandwich. “You want some soup?”

“I don’t deserve soup.”

He heard Wade humming but didn’t look up at him. Part of him knew he was being ridiculous, but a much louder part knew he was just being honest. With his mind moving sluggishly and his coordination failing him—possibly even his Spidey Senses—he  _ was _ useless. He couldn’t function as Spider-Man or Peter Parker.

“Ok, Petey, stand up for a second.”

"Why?"

“‘Cause I wanna make you feel better. So work with me a bit.”

Peter grumbled but went ahead and stood up for him. He wasn’t expecting to be pulled down onto Wade’s lap—the chair made a worrisome creaking sound at their combined weight—but he appreciated the comfort of Wade’s solid form surrounding him. “Is this the best place for cuddles?”

“No,” Wade acknowledged. “But you don’t like eating on the couch.”

“Blame Aunt May,” he said with a small smile.

“Can’t. She’s an angel.”

“Only because you’ve never lived with her,” Peter countered. “I love her dearly, but an angel she is not.”

“Shhh,” Wade pressed a fingertip to Peter’s lips. “Don’t ruin the illusion for me.”

With that he watched Wade pull apart his sandwich and hold a small piece up to his mouth. “Wh-what are you doing?” He asked, shifting his head away from the food.

“What does it look like?” Wade asked patiently.

“Ok, I know what you’re doing, but  _ why?” _

“I told you. I wanna help you feel better.”

Peter frowned. “I’m pretty sure I can still feed myself. You don’t have to treat me like a helpless kid.”

“I’m not.” Wade’s tone was still patient, but the firm edge held Peter’s attention. “I’m treating you like my not-helpless, adult boyfriend who isn’t feeling good. I’m the reason you feel like crap, so let me try to help.”

Insides still squirming uncomfortably, Peter opened his mouth obediently and let Wade feed him the bite of cheese and toast. And then a second piece. By the time they’d finished half of the sandwich, Peter had started to relax. He wasn’t sure it was really helping, but he didn’t dislike it as much as he’d thought he would. Wade spoke quietly as Peter ate, telling him about his plans for the day. Most of which involved hunting down ingredients for a pasta dish he wanted to try to make.

“Why are you acting like this?” Peter asked quietly. He realized he’d misspoken when Wade wasn’t quick enough to hide the hurt on his face. “Fuck, no, not  _ this,” _ he gestured at how Wade was holding him. “I meant…” He closed his eyes, desperate to pull his thoughts together through the viscous sludge of his brain. “All the cooking and stuff.”

Wade blinked. “You mean what I’ve been doing the last five months that we’ve been living together?”

“Exactly. I mean, I know how you live when you’re alone, Wade.”

To his surprise Wade smiled at him, pressing the last piece of sandwich past his lips. “That’s the thing, Petey. There’s no  _ point _ to all of this when I live alone.” Peter gave him a curious look. Wade sighed and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “This is probably a conversation that’s better had when you’re not all droppy.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, unwilling to let Wade evade the topic. “That’s a cop-out. You won’t bring it up again.”

“Fine. Couch first, though,” Wade announced right before standing up and carrying Peter across the room to the couch.

Once they’d settled, Wade spoke again. “I’ve been the only one looking out for me for… I don’t know. I left home when I was 16, so since then. So there was a period of time where I  _ needed _ to know how to cook and all that.”

“And you enjoy it.”

“And I enjoy it,” Wade agreed. “It can make the whole  _ living _ thing way more bearable.”

Peter tried to keep the frown from his face, but he didn’t really like the way this conversation was starting to go.

“But for the last few years…” Wade huffed softly. “I can’t die. And it didn’t take long for most of the things I once enjoyed—the things that made life  _ worth it… _ Well, they lost their luster, so to speak.”

“And now?”

“Now I have Ellie, and you, and  _ friends _ and doing things that I enjoy for the sake of enjoying them seems more worth the effort.”

Peter nodded slowly, rolling Wade’s words over in his mind. He was pretty sure what Wade was describing wasn’t exactly healthy. That ideally Wade could find a way to live for himself. But from the handful of things he’d been able to piece together from Wade’s history—he had no of knowing if he knew the whole story—Wade had been through all kinds of hell. It made a kind of sense that Wade couldn’t enjoy living for living’s sake.

“So, you said something about black garlic?” He offered, rather than ask Wade to continue ruminating on his depression. “Is that a specific variety of garlic? Is it actually black?”

Wade’s expression softened, his eyes lighting up as he launched into an explanation of what black garlic was—no, it’s not a specific variety, yes it is actually black—and what he was planning to make using it. 

Peter closed his eyes and nuzzled his face against Wade’s neck. He could do this. He could listen to Wade talk about the things that made him happy. He could join in on Wade’s excitement as he explained how the Maillard reaction darkened and softened the bulbs over several weeks.

As a bonus, the pasta dish Wade was planning sounded delicious.

* * *

Two days, a borrowed pasta machine, and an amazing plate of linguine with mushrooms and black garlic later, Peter was feeling back to normal. 

He’d earned weird looks from Bucky and Steve when he’d spent an hour in the gym practicing with the new webbing. At first, he’d thought practicing something he did every day was overkill, but he quickly realized that the blue webs didn’t behave quite like what he was used to. It took him a better part of the hour before he felt fully comfortable with the idea of aiming them at a person.

That night, amidst getting ready for bed, they went over the scene they were planning for the next day. (Peter commented that the term “scene” sounded like it implied roleplaying, but Wade assured him that no roleplaying was necessary. And that it was more of a holdover from the times when S&M sessions tended to be relegated to professionals or were performed at clubs.)

“And you’re still cool with me using our toys on you?”

“Sure,” Wade spat out his toothpaste. “Whatever you want to do.”

Peter huffed. Given how much Wade had impressed upon him the  _ need _ for both of them to agree and be comfortable with the scene, that sort of an answer felt unacceptable. “What does that mean?”

“What I said,” Wade shrugged. “I heal fast enough you could probably just shove into me and it’d be fine.”

He focused on squeezing toothpaste onto his new toothbrush for a second until Wade’s words clicked. “Excuse me?” He stared at his boyfriend. “Why would you even  _ suggest _ that?” When Wade avoided looking him in the face something dark curled in Peter’s gut. “Has someone  _ done that _ to you?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Wade muttered.

“No, Wade, you don’t get to just pretend the last 30 seconds didn’t happen.”

“It’s  _ fine, _ Petey.”

“If it’s fine, then why won’t you look at me?”

Wade swore but turned to look in his general direction. Technically he was watching Peter’s ear, but it was an improvement. “Believe it or not, the vast majority of people don’t overlook the disgusting mess that is my skin.” Peter had to bite his tongue from commenting on that. He knew it would just lead to them getting distracted by a  _ different _ argument. “But looking like rotted roadkill didn’t stop me from wanting to be touched from time to time.”

Peter swallowed, wanting to at least try to comfort him, but it was obvious Wade wasn’t done.

“So, when you look like I do, sometimes you just take what you can get. And quickies in dark bathrooms aren’t exactly gentle.”

It looked as though admitted any of that was  _ physically _ painful for Wade. And Peter had no idea what to say. He couldn’t imagine choosing painful sex with a stranger over just… not doing that. But it was obviously a choice Wade had made, and he wasn’t about to shame him for it.

“Well,” Peter started softly, trying to return to the conversation gently. “I’m not any of those people.” He set his toothbrush down—he’d partially forgotten he’d been holding it—and brushed his fingers along Wade’s face. “And I’m not interested in doing anything just to get off. I want to make you feel good, and that’s all I care about.” He pressed a chaste kiss against Wade’s lips. “So, tell me what you think will make you feel good.”

Wade’s next few breaths were shaky as he processed his emotional whiplash. Peter continued stroking his face and down to his neck, waiting as Wade figured out what he wanted to say.

“Toys,” he finally rasped.

“Thank you,” Peter kissed him again. “You think you’ll actually be in a good mindset for a scene by tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Wade admitted.

“Ok,” Peter nodded. “We’ll just see how we’re feeling tomorrow, then.”

When he moved his hands away—he still needed to finish getting ready for bed—Wade caught one of his wrists. “Can we keep talking about it?” He asked. “It’s… grounding. To hear the things you want to do with me.”

“Let me brush my teeth and we can talk all you want.”

Peter kept touching him while they talked. His arm, his chest, his neck, he’d squeeze Wade’s hand from time to time. And Wade seemed content to let him.

“There’s one more thing I should mention,” Peter whispered against Wade’s scalp.

“Hmm?”

“D’you care if I use a condom?”

Wade shook his head, careful not to dislodge Peter. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Petey. Definitely makes cleanup easier.”

“Er…”

That got Wade’s attention and he shifted to see Peter’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Well. I asked because I kind of promised May we’d use condoms when we have sex.”

His own discomfort at the memory of the conversation was quickly outweighed by the amusement he found in Wade’s expression. It looked like he couldn’t settle on distress, confusion, or fear.

“What?” Wade sat up. “How did that  _ possibly _ come up?”

“Well,  _ first _ she just assumed we were having sex.”

“We live together.”

“So?”

“Fair enough,” Wade waved his hand. “And?”

“And then, despite me explaining that neither of us are gonna get sick any time soon thanks to our healing factors, she made me promise we’d be “safe” in exchange for never talking about it again.”

Wade nodded, but his expression was pained. “And how long ago was this conversation that you just… never told me about.”

“I wasn’t hiding it or anything,” Peter huffed. “It just hadn’t come up.”

“How long ago?” Wade repeated.

“January,” Peter muttered. 

_ “Peter.” _

“What?”

“We have had  _ so much sex  _ since then.”

“Yeah, but not, like, penetration.”

“... I literally shoved my cock down your throat  _ twice _ in the last week,” Wade pointed out surprisingly evenly. 

Peter opened his mouth to argue the point, but before he could get the first word out he realized he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He closed his mouth with a click. “Right. I guess oral counts for that kind of thing.”

“Yeah. It does.”

After a moment Peter flopped against the bed, going limp. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“Hmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“A little bit,” Wade admitted. “Mostly I’m just trying to figure out why you’d keep something like that from me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Peter stressed. “It was more that I had a lot of other stuff on my mind, and it fell by the wayside.”

Wade stared down at him as he moved his hand and splayed it out against Peter’s rips. “Any other tidbits like that you need to share?”

Peter thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I can’t think of anything else.”

* * *

When Peter woke the next morning Wade had left the apartment. His concern was short-lived though as within 10 minutes Wade returned home and tossed a box of condoms at him with a smirk. 

He looked down, scanning over the box in his hands. “Oooh, variety pack!”

“Yeah. See, if you’d told me about this  _ when you should have, _ we could have been trying out all kinds of neat stuff.” There was no heat in Wade’s voice, and Peter relaxed as he realized Wade wasn’t mad at him anymore. 

“We’ve been missing out on the chance for  _ epic _ lightsaber battles,” Peter lamented, struggling to keep his face straight.

“And next time I shove my cock down your throat, it can taste like berries.”

Peter shared Wade's grin. "Guess we'll have to make up for lost time."

* * *

It was Wade’s turn to sit on the bed, vibrating with nervous excitement. It was more than a little bit distracting as Peter moved around the room, making sure he had everything they might need. He was glad he had something to do, though, as otherwise he’d have just been vibrating along with Wade, and who knew what kind of a feedback loop they’d create if they got the frequencies just right?

He giggled as he let the idea weave increasingly silly images into his mind.

Toys, lube, condoms, water bottles, web-shooter, check! 

Pleased that he hadn’t forgotten anything he crawled onto the bed and caught Wade’s grin in a kiss. “How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly? Fan-fuckin’-tastic.” Wade made grabby hands at their supplies, and Peter batted his hands away.

“Be good. Soon, alright?” Wade had the nerve to pout at him. “Stop that. I’m excited too.” He kissed Wade again, and that seemed to pacify him for the moment. “But listen, ok?” Wade nodded. “I’m not interested in safewords for this, tonight. If something doesn’t feel good, or you want to stop, that’s all you have to say. Understand?”

Wade nodded again and Peter fixed him with an expectant look. “Oh. Yeah, I understand. Um, are you planning anything that could need a safeword?”

Peter picked up the web shooter in answer. “I don’t think so,” he amended. “But I wanted us to be clear on any expectations.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you,”  _ Peter cupped Wade’s head between his hands and allowed their next kiss to deepen. He dragged his fingers down Wade’s neck, then his chest, finally playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “Ok?” He breathed as he started slowly pulling it up. 

“Yeah,” Wade whispered, closing his eyes. 

He could feel Wade’s tension as Peter took his time, so he was quick to correct his course and pulled his shirt off. As soon as his shirt hit the floor, Wade’s fingers dug across Peter's back in their hurry to ruck his shirt up as well. 

“Impatient,” Peter teased, even as he helped Wade pull his clothes off of him. He let himself be stripped bare before he turned his attention to Wade’s jeans. Wet open-mouthed kisses greeted every few inches of skin that Peter exposed. They trailed back up Wade’s body as soon as they’d removed the rest of his clothes.

Wade was breathing heavily by the time Peter got back up to his mouth. “Still ok?” 

“Still ok,” Wade confirmed. 

He was putty in Peter’s hands as he guided him back on the bed, and Peter didn’t stop kissing him until he’d moved his arms into position above his head.

“Web time?” Wade asked, unrepentant in his excitement.

“Yep,” Peter left one last kiss on his forehead before kneeling up so he could grab the shooter and fasten it around his wrist. 

Rather than shoot the web directly at Wade’s wrists, he aimed it into his own hand instead. From there he stretched it out and took his time wrapping it around Wade’s right wrist first, then the left. He circled both several times, spreading the pressure to try to minimize the chance of Wade’s circulation getting impeded. Only then did he link them together.

“How’s that? Can you still move your shou—” He cut himself off when he noticed the unshed tears in Wade’s eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is it too much? I can—”

Wade shook his head quickly. “I’m good. It’s good!” His smile was shaky, but Peter was inclined to believe him.

“Is it a lot?”

“Kinda? I don’t know,” he let out an awkward laugh. “It feels nice. Good. You’re just so… Careful.”

Peter felt several things concurrently, each as strong as the last. Pleased, because making Wade feel good always made  _ him _ feel good in turn. Confused, because had Wade expected him to be anything  _ but _ careful? And then angry, because he  _ knew _ why Wade’s expectations and experiences were so warped together that it wasn’t any real surprise why Wade would be surprised.

He hoped the first thing was the only one to show on his face. A deep breath later he smiled down at Wade. “Of course I’m careful with you, Honey. Like I said,  _ I cherish you.” _

Wade whimpered, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. His acceptance of Peter’s words warmed him to his core. 

“Good boy,” Peter praised before he started back down Wade’s body, licking at his scars as he went. He could taste salt, a faint hint of their soap, and a vague metallic tang of blood that never seemed to leave Wade. Briefly, he considered asking Wade if he thought that might be a side effect from his mutation, but that was a question better saved for later. 

He let his breath ghost across the head of Wade’s dick, grinning as he watched it twitch and start to fill. While Wade was focused on what Peter’s mouth was doing—or  _ not _ doing, in this case—he brought his thumb down to circle Wade’s hole. Wade jumped a little in surprise, before giving Peter an oddly shy smile. Peter directed most of his attention to Wade’s expressions as he continued rubbing over and around him, occasionally using just enough pressure to play like he might push in, but never quite going that far. 

It wasn’t long before Wade was whining. “Petey,  _ please.” _

“Something wrong?”

“Please just touch me.”

Part of Peter wanted very much to keep teasing him. But Wade looked so  _ fragile, _ so ready to beg in earnest, that Peter didn’t want to push him. Another time.

“Since you asked so sweetly,” Peter took Wade’s cock in his mouth for a few moments, sucking gently. He expected Wade’s whine as he pulled off. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you?” Peter grinned.

“I can come more than once,” Wade replied instantly, making Peter laugh. 

Although tempted, instead Peter shifted back to his knees and retrieved the lube and the smallest toy. He made a show of spreading the lube over it, making sure that Wade could see every movement. The toy was soft against his fingers and he admired the light flexibility. 

He knew this toy wouldn’t be a big deal for Wade, but Peter had said he’d start there, and he aimed to keep his promises.

The toy sank into Wade’s body more readily than he’d expected. Wade’s gasp sounded more surprised than anything else though. 

“Wish you could see this,” Peter mused, slowly thrusting the toy back and forth, working it deeper inside him. “You’re so greedy, huh?  _ Needed  _ something inside you.”

Wade panted and made an affirmative sound. Still, Peter had barely worked the entire toy inside of him before he started squirming impatiently.

“You alright?”

“Want more,” Wade admitted.

Peter smiled. “You’ll get more,” he promised. “When I’m ready for you to have more.”

Peter wasn’t much better at ignoring Wade’s puppy eyes, but he decided he wouldn’t be swayed. He knew the build-up would be worth it, even if Wade didn’t seem to believe him right then.

“C’mon, Pete, please. Sir?”

“Sir?” Peter glanced up.

“Er. Unless you don’t like me calling you that?”

“I don’t mind either way,” he said with a grin. “There might be games in the future where I’d really like that.”

Wade groaned and pushed down against him.

He leaned down to nip at Wade’s thigh before pushing the toy in as far as it could go. “Hold onto this for me.” Wade clenched down obediently and Peter was pleased to see the toy didn’t shift in the slightest.

Peter grabbed the second toy, lubing it more efficiently than he had the first. “Hey, your healing factor isn’t going to cause any issues, will it?”

“No? Why would it?” Peter replied with his best “I don’t know” noise. “Any microtears or whatever will get healed right away. But we’re just relaxing my muscles. No damage being done for my body to heal.”

His assuring tone didn’t keep Peter from freezing. “Microtears?”

“You get microtears from washing your hair, Petey, calm down.”

Peter nodded, relaxing from the shot of anxiety he hadn’t expected. After taking another slow breath to make sure he was able to set those thoughts aside, for now, he pulled the first toy free. His focus returned as he started sliding the second toy into Wade, still meeting only minimal resistance. 

“Have you been fucking yourself without me?” Peter asked.

“Not recently,” Wade panted, rolling his hips in time with Peter’s movements. 

“Not recently,” Peter echoed. “When was the last time?”

“Uuuh. Sometime before I moved in, I guess.”

Peter hummed, rocking the toy back and forth now that it was all the way inside. “Why’d you stop?”

“I don’t know,” Wade gasped. “Fuck! Petey, right there, God, please.”

He stared in amazement as Wade writhed, bucking against the toy even as he strained to hold still. His arms were shaking with the effort of keeping them up above his head. 

Making no attempt to hide how the sight was affecting him, Peter’s free hand wrapped around his own dick, and he granted himself a few quick strokes. “Wade,” he sighed. “Fuck, hold again, please.”

This time he didn’t even wait to see if Wade was following his command—he knew he would be. He slicked up the third toy and exchanged them as smoothly as possible. 

He finally felt resistance when the toy was roughly halfway inside of Wade. The wince that signaled Wade’s discomfort was brief, but Peter still caught it.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he held the toy still, waiting for Wade to adjust the width of it.

“I know,” Wade dismissed, “I’m fine, whatever.”

Peter narrowed his eyes but rather than call Wade out, he made it a point to be as slow and sweet as possible while he continued pressing the toy forward. 

When the toy finally ended, Wade’s breath was stuttering in his chest. A hint of worry snaked into Peter’s mind, wondering if he hadn’t gone too fast, if this hadn’t been too much. He pushed it down. Wade would have told him. 

“Petey…” Wade was squirming again. Peter could tell how much he  _ wanted _ to hold still, but it was so hard for him.

“Yes, dear?”

“Please!”

Peter stilled the thrusts of the toy, just in case he’d misjudged. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” Wade panted. Good, Peter definitely hadn’t misjudged then. 

“Are you gonna let me take care of you?”

Wade nodded quickly. “Promise.”

“Yeah,” he purred, sweetly. “Gonna be Good for me?”

“I’ll try,” he whimpered.

Peter leaned over, kissing Wade. “You won’t just power through and act like everything is fine?” 

Wade shook his head. Then, “It wasn’t like it was bad or anything.”

“I know, Sweetie. I know how tough you are—”

“It’s not—”

“I know that, too,” Peter assured him. “You even like some discomfort, don’t you?”

It took a moment, but Wade nodded a little. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. And we can totally play with that another time, ok? But right now, I just want to make you feel good.”

Wade closed his eyes and turned his head away. Peter gave him a moment to feel his feelings before shifting the toy so that it pressed on Wade’s prostate. His boyfriend let out an honest to God  _ yelp. _ “I’ll let you know, I swear.”

“Thank you,” Peter shuffled forward, grinding the toy into Wade for a few more moments before slowly pulling it out. He smiled at Wade’s mournful noise, even though it meant he was getting what he wanted.

Wade watched him intensely as he ripped open the condom wrapper and rolled it on, eternally grateful that doing so was easy enough he didn't make a fool of himself by messing it up.

Peter pressed the head of his dick against Wade’s ass a couple of times before realizing that he would need a bit more pressure than the toys had. He secretly hoped that Wade would think he was just teasing him, as opposed to tripping over his own inexperience.

He tried to watch Wade’s face as he  _ did  _ push in, but  _ holy shit. _ He was not prepared. Everything Wade told him still didn’t measure up to the reality of feeling himself sink into the tight intense heat of Wade’s body. His eyes slid closed against the overstimulation, and he shivered with it. He swore internally, irritated at himself. He needed to be taking care of Wade, not stuck in his own head! (At least he wasn’t crying this time.)

It took another second before he could force his eyes open. He opened his mouth to apologize to Wade, but Wade looked similarly struck. Wade’s lips were parted, his eyes wide and filled with  _ awe. _ It wasn’t all that dissimilar to how he’d looked the first time he’d pushed inside Peter, come to think of it. 

He rolled his hips experimentally, pushing fractionally deeper. Wade’s hands were halfway towards him before he snapped his arms back to the head of the bed, bringing Peter firmly back to the present.

“How’s that feel?” Peter’s voice cracked.

“You feel so good, Petey. So, fucking—” Wade’s legs wrapped around Peter’s waist, trying to pull him closer. 

Peter grinned and refused to be moved. “Nuh-uh,” he chastised gently, his head settling back into the game. “I’ll move when I’m good and ready.”

Wade fixed him with a pair of contrite puppy eyes, which was simply unfair. “Yes, sir.” Peter might not have had strong feelings about being called “sir,” but Wade’s cock twitched and he could feel him squeeze around his dick as he said it. Peter moaned. If it got that sort of a reaction from Wade, he was one million percent here for it.

He hadn’t really been planning to make Wade wait anyway, but it would be damn near impossible now. He was still as gentle as possible as he could manage as he pushed himself the rest of the way inside—as Wade’s body  _ made room _ for him inside. Still, he kept his strength in mind for every movement, every shift of his hips, every flex of his hands against Wade’s skin.

They rested a moment when Peter was fully sheathed—mostly because Peter needed to and refused to move. He was panting and a little overwhelmed. “Wow,” he managed, lamely.

“Wow,” Wade echoed, grinning up at him.

“Wade. You. I. You feel so…” Peter trailed off, unable to gather the words to even start explaining what he was feeling.

“Good?” Wade offered, uncertain.

“So good,” Peter assured him, groping at Wade’s pecs. He shifted back a little before pushing back in, testing to see if movement was going to be too much for him. “It’s like your body doesn’t want to let me go."

“It doesn’t,” Wade confirmed. “I don’t. We want you inside us forever.”

Peter chuckled softly and kept touching and stroking everywhere he could reach as he started thrusting, letting Wade help set the rhythm. He shifted Wade’s leg a little and Wade jolted with a moaned curse. It quickly became Peter’s mission to repeat that over and over, aiming to rub against Wade’s prostate as often as possible.

After a few minutes, Wade was groaning and squirming and making wonderful pleased sounds under him. And watching more and more of Wade’s inhibitions fall away was  _ even better _ than the way his ass kept fluttering and clenching around Peter's dick. 

As he kept up his gentle touching with one hand, the other started stroking Wade’s dick. Before long Wade started begging sweetly, but not for anything in particular. Peter had a feeling Wade just really liked saying his name. (As well as every nickname he could remember Wade calling him, plus a few new ones.)

“Tell me what you want so I can give it to you,” he kept the command soft, but it was still a command.

Wade whined. “Please, please, please.”

Peter wasn’t totally sure how vulnerable Wade’s headspace might be, and he didn’t want to do or say anything to unsettle him. “C’mon, Wade, you’re doing so well,” he cajoled instead. “I want you to fall apart for me. Tell me what you need.” His entire focus narrowed down to Wade and his pleasure. The rest of the world, and even his own building orgasm, were distant, unimportant details in comparison.

Wade’s eyes weren’t super focused as he looked in the general direction of Peter’s face. “Just this,” he rasped. “Wanna,” he swallowed. “Wanna try to come like this. For you.”

With a start, Peter realized that despite Wade always (or, almost always) being gentle with Peter, he was  _ never _ gentle with himself. At least not when he was actually trying to come. When had the last time been? Probably  _ before. _ Probably a few years.

“Ok,” he murmured. “I’ll get you there,” he promised without a second thought.

It took a while, to the point that Peter’s entire body was burning from the exertion. Wade was panting, desperate, getting closer and closer. His entire posture was loose and open, and he was making soft needy sounds that Peter had never heard from him before—which was kind of saying something. Despite Wade’s expressions being completely different, Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of the photo he’d found with the easy smile Wade had been able to affect then. And Peter was the reason. He’d done that. 

“You’re so beautiful, Wade.”

Wade whimpered at the praise and Peter  _ needed _ to kiss him. He dragged himself forward, changing their position enough that he could reach Wade’s face, and kissed him desperately. Wade cried out into his mouth from the shift. Broken vowels seemed to be the closest to words that he could manage.

“You’re ok,” Peter shushed gently. “I’ve got you, you can let go, you’re safe.”

Wade  _ broke,  _ crying as he went silent and rigid with his orgasm, before shaking apart as Peter fucked him through it. Wade clenched around him and Peter wasn’t even a minute behind with his own orgasm.

Wade let out a high pitched sob and dropped his arms around Peter’s neck, clinging to him when he started to pull out.

“I know, Sweetie, I’m sorry,” Peter soothed. “Gotta take the condom off, but I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He moved slowly as he eased himself out, but was quick to remove and tie off the condom. He couldn’t resist a small internal  _ swish! _ when it landed smoothly in the trashcan. He knew he should probably get up and grab a cloth to clean them up, but he also knew he didn’t want to leave Wade’s side, even just for a few seconds. Instead, he just grabbed the corner of their sheet—they needed to wash it anyway—and wiped off the worst of their sweat and cum. He noted to add baby wipes or something to their shopping list.

Peter draped himself over Wade, letting them touch as much as possible. He hoped this was at least close to being as grounding for Wade as it was for him. Softly, he started whispering words of praise in Wade’s ear. Telling him how much he loved Wade, what a great job he did, how wonderful and beautiful and Good. “All for me.”

It took a bit for Wade to stop shaking, and even longer before his breathing started to even out. Peter didn’t stop talking, didn’t stop praising him. He only interrupted himself to press soft kisses everywhere he could reach without having to move.

Eventually, “Petey?”

He pushed himself up enough to be able to look at Wade’s face. “Hey there. You with me?”

Wade shook his head, then winced at the movement. “Thirsty.”

A mixture of pride and pleasure soaked into Peter’s bones. Wade  _ never _ asked Peter to take care of him. Not that he ever really asked to take care of Peter, either, he just did it.

“I have some water, but we have to sit up.”

Wade’s brows furrowed just a bit before he nodded. Peter moved to his side, but never stopped touching him. He helped him sit up, or rather, he sat Wade up. Wade was boneless and pliant and swallowed obediently when Peter tipped water into his mouth. Peter took his time, not sure that Wade was really together enough to avoid choking.

He guided Wade to lay back down and grabbed a drink for himself.

“I’m gonna untie you now.” Wade shook his head. “No?” More head shaking. “Why not, Honey?”

It took Wade a moment. “Safe.”

“You  _ are _ safe,” Peter agreed. “But that’s not a good position to keep your arms in.” Wade’s expression fell, looking defeated. It made Peter’s chest ache. “How about this? You let me untie you, ok? And then I’m going to tie you back up with your arms down.”

Only once Wade had nodded his agreement did Peter reach up and break apart the webbing and unravel it from around his wrists. Wade’s hands grabbed at Peter’s, so Peter laced their fingers together. They sat quietly like that for a long moment.

“Can I touch you?” Wade asked quietly.

“Of course you can.”

Wade’s hands left his, and traveled up his arms to caress his shoulders, then back down and over his thighs. Finally, they slid along his sides until they spread wide over his ribcage. 

He still looked vulnerable, but calm. Wade was definitely starting to float back up from subspace. Which, again,  _ Peter _ helped him get there. He was still in awe of the extent of trust and faith Wade had put in him.

“Still want me to tie you back up?” He asked softly.

Wade blinked slowly, watching his hands as they stroked along Peter’s rips. “Wanna keep touching.”

“Ok,” Peter agreed. “You can touch all you want.” Peter returned the affection, petting Wade’s chest and belly. He noticed that Wade was half hard again, but didn’t acknowledge it right away. Instead, he reached up to stroke along the side of Wade’s face, running his thumb over his left brow.

Wade smiled at that, pressing his face against Peter’s hand. “Used to have a scar there,” he shared. Wade giggled, “Guess I still do.”

“Yeah?” Peter hadn’t expected Wade to ever mention it. Or mention anything about what he looked like  _ before. _

“Yeah. Fucked up my eyebrow falling out of a tree. I thought it made me look badass.”

Suddenly, Peter wanted to tell Wade that he’d seen a picture of him. It felt like lying not to admit it now. He was also pretty sure that right then wasn’t the best time, not when Wade was so fragile. “I’m sure it did.”

Wade shook his head, still smiling. “Nah. Made me look like a tool.” Wade closed his eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t know me back then.”

From there Wade moved and curled up against Peter, laying his head on Peter’s lap. Peter slowly pet his head. “Why’s that?”

Wade frowned and Peter wished he could take the question back. “Nevermind, sorry. It’s not—”

“I was pretty.”

“You’re still pretty.”

Wade shrugged, unwilling to fight Peter on that for once. “I was pretty-pretty, though,” he explained.

Peter felt another pang of guilt. “Even if I’d known you then,” he spoke carefully, “I’d still love you now, too. You wouldn’t be any less attractive to me  _ now.” _ That was something that Peter did actually  _ know. _ He would never deny that Wade had been gorgeous  _ before. _ But that didn’t take away from how gorgeous he was now.

“You wouldn’t have liked me. I was an asshole.”

“You still have your moments.”

Wade smiled at the teasing and kissed Peter’s leg. He mouthed at it for a moment, apparently distracted, before continuing. “I didn’t care as much about who aimed me.”

Peter’s breath caught at the admission. “I don’t think this is the best time for this conversation,” he said gently. Despite that, Wade flinched at the comment.

His voice was painfully small as he apologized.

“Oh, Wade, no. You’re ok, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Peter assured him quickly. “I just want you to be happy right now, ok? I don’t want our conversation to make you sad.”

Wade settled but didn’t quite return to the same state he’d been in moments before. Peter knew it would happen eventually—and probably soon—but he hated that he jarred Wade out of it.

“I’m glad I know now-you, too,” he resumed petting Wade’s head and neck. “I know you’ve done a lot of things you’re not proud of, and I hate that you went through so many horrible things to get here, but… I’m still happy you’re who you are now.” Wade shifted against him but didn't seem like he was any more uncomfortable than he usually was when Peter said things like that. “And I look forward to seeing who we’ll be in the future.”

“We?” Wade asked softly.

“Yeah,  _ we. _ You think I’m going anywhere?”

“You might.”

Peter wanted to tell him that, no, of course he wouldn’t. But it would have been disingenuous to claim that with absolute certainty. He could still be honest, though. “I’m not planning on it,” he said instead. “I can’t imagine being apart from you, Wade. And I don’t want to be. I want to be right here next to you until I… For as long as I can. For as long as you want me here.”

Wade was either less concerned with being found disingenuous, or else he was just incredibly certain. “I want you here forever. I’m ready to fight Death for you.”

“That’s sweet,” Peter chuckled softly, “but you can’t fight death.”

“I’ll kick her ass,” Wade confirmed, nipping at his leg. “I won’t let her have you.”

“You’re not talking about Hel, are you?” He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was pretty sure he knew who would win that fight.

“No. ‘D fight her too, though.”

“Ok, well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

Wade snuggled against Peter’s legs, his hips shifting and humping against nothing.

“You wanna come again, Honey?”

“I like that,” was his quiet reply.

“Coming?”

The merc gave him a look that was too soft to read as annoyed. “You calling me things like that. When we’re doing this. It feels good.”

“I’m glad. I like making you feel good.”

Wade hummed softly. “Can I? Come again?” His expression turned hopeful as though Peter might refuse him.

And Peter was a little startled that Wade was still down enough to ask like that. “Yeah, Sweetie. As much as you want.” Wade’s breath caught at that offer. “How do you want it?”

“I…” Wade frowned, distressed.  _ Oh. _ He was also still down enough that making choices was hard.

“Sorry. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Peter dropped his hand down to Wade’s dick and let Wade rub himself against him.

After a moment he curled his fingers to give Wade something to fuck into. Not surprisingly, Wade didn’t take long before he started moving harder and faster, much more like how he usually got himself off. And Peter was more than happy to help give Wade what he wanted. He was a little concerned that there might not be enough lube in the equation, though. Using his core to hold himself up, he grabbed the lube and inelegantly drizzled some over Wade’s cock and his hand. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

It didn’t take Wade nearly as long to come a second time.

“Good job,” Peter said softly, clean hand petting Wade’s chest. “You did so well, Honey.”

Wade didn’t answer verbally, but his smile was warm and content.

They passed several minutes like that, the only real sound in the room was their breathing.

“Done?” Wade eventually asked, blinking up at him.

“Up to you.”

Peter watched as Wade considered it. “Kinda tired,” he admitted.

“I bet.” He bent down and pressed a kiss to Wade’s forehead. “I’m gonna get us cleaned up, ok?”

He waited until Wade nodded before moving from the bed to retrieve a warm, damp cloth to wipe them down. A shower would be better, but that could wait for a bit longer.

As soon as Peter crawled back into the bed Wade curled up against him with his head pillowed on Peter's stomach.

"Comfy?" 

Wade nodded. "Soft," he offered in explanation.

Peter just smiled and watched Wade close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

* * *

“Peeete,” Wade whined, drawing his name out.

“Whaaat?” Peter asked, drawing out his response as he blinked awake.

“Why’d you let me fall asleep?” Wade pouted.

“Why wouldn’t I? You said you were tired.”

Wade huffed and dragged himself up to his pillow. “I slept through all the good yummy brain stuff though.”

Peter snorted. “It’s not like we can’t do it again.”

“We can?”

“Sure.” Part of Peter wondered why Wade seemed surprised by that. “I’ll even keep you awake after if you want.”

“So,” Wade started, studiously not looking at Peter’s face. “Does that mean you had fun?”

“Hey. Look at me.”

Wade’s eyes snapped up to his in a way that was incredibly satisfying.

“I had a great time,” Peter assured him. “We can do stuff like this as much as you want.”

Relief visibly melted Wade’s tension. “And you liked topping?”

“Topping was…” Peter wet his  lips , trying to decide how he wanted to explain. “It was fun. I think I prefer bottoming, though. Less overwhelming. Or, a different kind of overwhelming, I guess.” Then, before Wade could try misunderstanding what Peter was saying, “But all the rest of that was  _ incredible. _ Not that being inside you wasn’t  _ also _ incredible, but—”

“You don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to.”

“Noted.” Peter smiled. “Or we could get a proper dildo so I can hold you down and fuck you as much as you want.”

Wade opened and closed his mouth several times. “That would… Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Thought you’d be cool with it.”

“Can I pick it?” Wade sat up, all fatigue disappearing in an instant.

“You can  _ help me _ pick it.”

“Can we get a red one?”

“Why do you want—Nevermind, I know why. Yeah, I’m sure we can find a red one that we like.”

He wasn’t surprised by Wade’s willingness or enthusiasm, but it still warmed his chest  to watch Wade immediately put the idea into action. He grabbed his phone and in less than a minute—quickly enough that Peter was  suspicious that Wade had bookmarked the page—he’d pulled up a site selling a bright red dildo covered in… 

“Please tell me those aren’t spiderwebs.”

“They’re spiderwebs!” Wade grinned, pushing the phone into his hands.

Sure enough, thin blue lines covered the length of the toy. The red and blue were even Spider-Man’s signature colors. “Why does this exist?” 

Wade snorted. “What, you think I’m the only one that  wants to fuck Spider-Man?”

“I never thought about it.” He was afraid to scroll up or down the page. “Are there dildos for the other Avengers?”

“Oh yeah!” Wade had no similar issue and was happy to show Peter that this company had made a lot of  _ creative _ choices while making sex toys based on his friends and coworkers. 

“Hulk’s not that big,” Peter said before he could stop himself when Wade pulled up a terrifyingly large green dildo.

“What?” Wade gasped,  mock-offended . “Baby Boy, has Hulk been nude around you?”

“I would never have phrased it like that, but, yeah. There has been a wardrobe malfunction or two.”

Wade hummed. “So he wasn’t hard, then?”

“I don’t want to think about this,” he complained. “But no, he was.” Peter frowned. He’d have been perfectly happy to never think about that again.

“So if I got this toy…”

“You’d hurt yourself.”

“Hulk could fuck me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not that that would ever happen,” Wade continued quickly  as if that was the issue . “I’m just saying. It would be cool. Not the fucking Hulk part—well…” Peter narrowed his eyes. “Right, no, wouldn’t do that. But the toy would be cool!

“This conversation isn’t making me feel inadequate at all,” Peter muttered blandly.

“I’m not going to apologize for being a size queen,” Wade told him. “ Besides , your dick is connected to the rest of you which makes it the best possible thing to have inside of me.”

Peter frowned. He didn’t really understand, but he knew that Wade was being sincere.

“What if I fucked you  _ with _ the Hulk dildo?”

Wade  _ squealed _ in excitement. “That would be the most amazing combination of possibilities, Baby. Can that happen? Could we do that?”

“I love how you think I’m gonna turn down anything you want to do. Well, anything within reason.”

He still sighed when Wade added  _ all _ of the offered toys to his cart. “Karen, can you make sure that no  one ever finds out about these?”

“Tony is already aware of their existence,” she informed him.

“Er. I meant about Wade and I having them.”

“I will do my very best, Peter.”

“Thanks, Karen, you’re the greatest!” Wade chirped.

Peter shook his head. “Is there a Deadpool toy?”

“Probably not,” Wade scoffed.

“Have you ever checked?”

Wade tilted his head before his thumbs tapped quickly against the screen. “Holy shitballs.”

“Found something?”

“Found several somethings!” Wade looked delighted as he passed the phone over. “Bondage kit!”

“Huh,” Peter blinked. Red and black cuffs, gags, and floggers appeared in the search results. And  _ two _ different dildos. And a buttplug. “You have a very active fanbase.”

“Jealous?” Wade teased.

“Absolutely not.” He returned the phone.

“Want me to buy ‘em?”

“If it makes you happy.”

Wade’s smile faded and he gave Peter a more considering look. “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

Peter sighed. “Not really? I mean, finding out someone made a dildo based on me is a bit creepy and I could have lived without knowing about it. But other than that, it’s fine.”

“I’m not being, like, too enthusiastic?”

“I would be concerned if you  _ weren’t _ enthusiastic.” He leaned forward and kissed Wade’s nose. “I like how excited you get about having sex with me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, dork. Heads up, though, we’re not using any of the toys that aren’t based on us.”

“What about Hulk?” Wade pouted playfully.

“Maybe Hulk.” He still cringed. “If you can promise you won’t be weird  around Bruce or Hulk afterwards.”

Wade held up three fingers in a salute. “I promise not to be any weirder than normal. Scout's honor.”

“Were you a scout?” Peter asked, grinning  at the sight.

“Might have been!”

“You’d be a cute scout.”

Wade’s mouth twitched in discomfort at Peter’s words.

“Sor—”

“Thank you.”

Peter blinked. Wade looked even  _ more _ uncomfortable now. “You’re welcome?”

“I don’t have to agree to accept the compliment,” Wade muttered. “I know you’re not just saying that shit to fuck with me. So. Thanks.”

He held Wade’s face between his hands and kissed him. Wade let out a muffled sound of surprise and dropped his phone. “I love you,” Peter whispered between kisses. 

“Love you, too,” Wade grinned when he pulled away.

Peter’s hands slipped down to his shoulders. “Shower?”

“What?”

“We should take a shower. We’re gross.”

“Rude.”

“Honest.”

Wade huffed. “Yeah, alright. If you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: some more Spideypool (at least 2), then some FI and working to wrap up Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces. At least the FrostIron side of the plot stuff. Whee~

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@Wolfloner-Official](https://wolfloner-official.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@Wolfloner1990](https://twitter.com/Wolfloner1990)  
> Discord: Wolfloner#9177  
> [Wolf And Sky's Fever Dreams (16+) [Discord Server]](https://discord.gg/w5AqUAn)


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